Inheritance
by Aebbe
Summary: When Scorpius Malfoy inadvertently joins an Auror investigation into a gruesome murder, he has no idea that he's just thrown himself into a tangled plot of old grudges and dark magic. Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Scorpius's sister, Iseult, just wants to focus on running the Quidditch team, but instead finds herself becoming responsible for a pair of first years with dangerous secrets.
1. Venomous Tentacula

**A/N: PLEASE READ!**

 **If you've just found this story and have never read anything of mine before, a few quick things:**

 **All my stories are on the same timeline, and they all fit together. I don't want to put people off reading this as new readers (Welcome! Please keep reading! Come and say hi!), but there will be some things in it that will make very little sense without having read at least one or two of the others. Less so at the beginning, but in later chapters, the timeline seriously overlaps with one of my other fics, CHOICES. And the events of Choices are too weird to make sense as a mostly-off-page sub-plot, which is what they are here.**

 **In a way, this is a sequel to Choices, because it will eventually continue where that one ended. In a way, it's a sequel to all the fics that I've written so far, so the way to understand it best is having read them all, but that's not strictly necessary. I'll do my best to fill in plot holes so it all makes sense, whether or not you've read the earlier stuff.**

 **And finally, although they are both listed as main characters, if you're only here looking for Scorpius/Rose romance, I'm afraid you won't find it. There are ships in this story, but that's not one. There are also OCs. I'm quite proud of my OCs, so if you're allergic to the very idea, this probably also isn't the story for you. If you've read my other stories, though, most of them are the same OCs, so you might meet some old friends.**

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It looked, for all the world, like blue sand in a small, black pouch. Well no, it _was_ blue sand, in all the essentials. But it was also much more than sand. It was the culmination of two years of painstaking work conducted in the hours around a full-time job, which often meant he had worked on it well into the night.

It was the thing all Scorpius Malfoy's ambitions hung on. And this was the test. It would either work, or it would not. They would either see the value in it, or they wouldn't, and he might as well go back to testing magical aids to horticultural decomposition.

'You ready?'

He looked up from the pouch. Persis McKay stood beside him, in neat Ministry travel robes, the trim and her badge showing her as both an employee of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, and a member of the Criminal Investigation Unit. She was cool and business-like as always, her fair fastened back in a neat bun.

'Yes.'

He picked up the pouch, and tucked it into the pocket of his robe. He didn't usually bother with robes, but the Ministry staff all had to wear them in one form or another, so he'd felt it would make a good impression. She smiled at him, and he nodded, but couldn't manage to return it. His nerves were getting the better of him, but he mustn't show that.

They were in a hurry, he knew, but she still paused for a moment and looked at him, head tilted to one side.

'You know, we could wait for a different case. If this one's too much. It would be completely understandable.'

He gazed back at her, relieved to find that, despite his anxiety, his mind was quite clear on the matter. He wasn't tempted by her offer to let him basically chicken out.

'The whole point of this is to help solve your cases. The bigger the crime, the more important it is, right? I don't want to wait.'

She smiled again. 'Well, all right. Let's get going then, before the Law Enforcement Patrol mucks the scene up for us.'

For all her calm manner, he thought, as they prepared to Apparate, this must be quite a big deal for her too. She could only be about thirty, and he knew that the task force she'd been assigned, with the mission of developing a better and more efficient crime scene response, was the first she'd headed. And he was her gamble, which, considering she'd only met him a few weeks previously, must be at least a slight concern for her.

They arrived at a grim scene. It was early morning, and the heavy sky and drizzle meant that it hardly felt light. The street, one of the smaller ones not far from Diagon Alley, in the main residential area of Wizarding London, had been cordoned off. A couple of people in bright St Mungo's green, along with a Ministry Medic, stood outside the door, their heads close together as they conferred. There were a number of people from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad around the property, but, more surprisingly, two in the brown uniform of the Auror Department stationed outside the gate.

Scorpius glanced at Persis, who was frowning. Without looking at him, she marched up to the gate.

'What's going on here?' she asked the nearest Auror, a woman perhaps somewhere in her late thirties.

The woman looked at Persis, appearing somewhat taken aback at her sudden appearance.

'Er… This is a crime scene,' she said.

'Yes, I know that,' Persis snapped, jabbing a finger at her badge. 'This is _my_ crime scene. Persis McKay, Criminal Investigation Unit—I'm in charge of this case. What's the Auror Department doing here? This isn't a Dark Arts case.'

The woman looked over at the other Auror, a younger man. For a moment, neither of them replied to Persis, but eventually, the older one looked back at her.

'This case has been connected to an ongoing Auror investigation,' she said.

Scorpius couldn't see Persis's face, as he was standing behind her, but he saw her shoulders stiffen.

' _What_ investigation?' she demanded.

'I'm afraid I can't disclose…' the Auror began, but she was interrupted.

'What's going on, Lindon?' Another woman—also in Auror robes—strode down the path from the house.

By her demeanour, the newcomer seemed to be in charge, and Persis turned to her, and once more explained who she was, and what she was doing there. The woman heard her out, then nodded.

'Well, I'm Natalie Kennet, Senior Auror. And I'm sorry if we seem to have swooped in, but this is quite an important case for us.'

'I don't understand,' Persis said, although she sounded slightly less annoyed. 'These people were murdered using Venomous Tentacula, not the Dark Arts. It's straightforward crime.'

Natalie Kennet hesitated. 'I'm afraid I'd have to get clearance to tell you the situation,' she said. 'But, although you're right about the murder method, it's not quite as straightforward as that.'

Scorpius could feel his chance melting away from him. At this rate, they were not even going to be allowed inside. He stepped forwards, and spoke in a low voice to Persis.

'Look. If we're going to do this, we have to be quick. I may only have a narrow window.'

Auror Kennet looked at him.

'And you are?'

Scorpius felt that she probably knew more or less who he was, because most people seemed to; he looked like a Malfoy, and people mostly recognised his appearance. His sister was the only one of them who usually passed unnoticed, by dint of looking more like their mother.

'This is Scorpius Malfoy,' Persis said. 'He's from the Magical Research Association, and he's brought state-of-the-art new crime scene equipment that we're testing. But if this is now an Auror investigation…'

The description was pushing the boundaries of accuracy. Scorpius _did_ work for the Magical Research Association, but most of his real experimentation, including this, had nothing to do with his paid work. And 'state-of-the-art' really depended on whether he could make the thing work. But Kennet looked at him with a spark of new interest.

'What kind of equipment?' she asked.

Scorpius produced the pouch, and Kennet gazed suspiciously at it. Feeling time flowing away, he sighed, and opened it, so that she could see the blue powder.

'And the purpose of this is?' Kennet asked.

'Well, um, the idea is…' he began, stumbling over his words. In his mind, he heard Calypso Zabini's voice saying, _don't sell yourself short!_ He straightened his shoulders. 'You spread it in a ring, and activate it, and it gathers impressions of recent activity within the ring. It's then possible to recreate those impressions, and, with a bit of work on them, produce a picture of what happened in the area, a bit like a less clear version of memories in a Pensieve. But the more time between the events and the gathering of the impressions, the less clear it is. So if you want me to demonstrate it, I need to do it as soon as possible.'

His confidence had grown as he spoke, and he delivered his last lines with a direct gaze at Auror Kennet. He knew that his invention worked. He had tested it himself, just never in front of strangers and Ministry officials, apart from Persis McKay, and she was only one person.

Kennet frowned, and looked at Persis.

'This thing works?'

'Apparently,' Persis said. 'I've seen it working in controlled conditions, and I got permission to try it. At the moment, Mr Malfoy is the only person with the expertise to use it. It's experimental, of course, but…'

Kennet appeared to make up her mind. She nodded.

'Very well. Just be aware, I can't share many details of our wider mission. But if this… equipment works, it could be very useful. Come with me.'

If Persis was irritated to have authority snatched away from her, she didn't show it. She gave Scorpius a small nod, and they both followed Kennet up to the house. His nerves were returning. Even more seemed to hang on this than before. An _Auror_ investigation. If he failed, it would not only be mortifying, it might destroy his credibility when presenting any future projects.

Plus, three people had died, and they deserved to have their killer caught.

They came into the living room of a house that looked bizarrely ordinary. It was a bit devoid of personalisation, as if it hadn't been lived in very long, or the inhabitants had only been there temporarily, but there was nothing odd or out of place. The furniture looked good quality—armchairs, a coffee table, a fireplace that, from the ashes in it, looked recently used. A bland picture of a field and trees hung on the wall, the leaves moving as if in a breeze.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs as they entered, and another figure descended, one Scorpius knew all too well, and his heart sank a little. The grey-blue trim, rather than gold, of her Auror uniform marked her as a trainee. She was tall, with her red hair shaved on side—he didn't remember that hairstyle from school, but it had probably been against school uniform codes. He did remember the purple stud in her eyebrow, because had caused a bit of a stir about uniform codes itself, although she'd been allowed to keep it in the end.

'We've collected up all that gear from the back room, Ma'am,' she was saying as she entered, before she caught sight of Persis and Scorpius and stopped short. For a moment, she looked startled. 'Oh. Hey, Persis.' Her eyes travelled on. 'Malfoy.'

'Hello, Weasley,' he said resignedly.

He shouldn't even be surprised that Rose Weasley was on first name terms with Persis. There were so many Weasleys, they had connections with everyone.

'Rose,' Auror Kennet said briskly, 'Ms McKay and Mr Malfoy are going to conduct some investigation at the scene. Nobody's moved anything yet, have they?'

'Nobody's touched anything in there since we got here.' Weasley said, casting an openly curious look at Scorpius. 'The Law Enforcement Squad had already been in and killed the plant before that, though.'

'That shouldn't matter,' Scorpius put in. 'We can go back before that. It starts getting confusing if there's been too much irrelevant activity in the area, but so long as we know what was done, it ought to be okay.'

'Good. Mr Malfoy, do you need me to clear the room? Or are you happy to have an audience?'

Scorpius hesitated. He'd have liked to say he needed complete solitude, but it wasn't really true, so long as there weren't so many distractions he couldn't concentrate. And he knew that Persis fully intended to be there.

'Well, I mean, it'll be easier if there's not a crowd. But a few people are okay,' he said in the end.

She nodded. 'Well, that's good, because I'd like to observe this myself, if you don't mind? And it might be a good thing for Rose to see.'

Scorpius's heart sank further. He knew that the Auror wasn't really deliberately trying to humiliate him, but it almost felt like it. Well, he just had to get it right and succeed, that was all. He nodded, not daring to let himself speak, although he cast a glance at Persis, and caught a flash of something like grim amusement in her eyes.

'Lead the way, Rose,' Kennet said.

Scorpius found himself following Rose Weasley up the stairs, with Kennet and Persis behind him. The pouch was still in his hand, and his palms were damp with sweat. Weasley turned her head as they reached the top, her face unsmiling.

'Ever seen a dead body before, Malfoy?'

He stared at her, pausing for a moment. Because the truthful answer was no, and, now that it came to it, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to deal with it, but he didn't want to admit that to Weasley.

She met his eyes for a moment, then turned away again and continued up the hallway.

'Well, neither had I, before today,' she threw back, without looking around again.

He wasn't sure whether it was meant to make him feel better, or to challenge him.

The scene of the crime was a mess, and bile rose up in Scorpius's throat as he looked at it. The three people had been poisoned by the Tentacula, their bodies discoloured and distorted, faces twisted in pain. Tentacles were wrapped around their limbs, and there was blood where the plant had bitten them. The Tentacula itself also lay dead upon the floor in a spiky mass, hacked-off chunks oozing liquid here and there.

Persis, beside him, swore quietly.

'Their hands and legs are tied, as you see,' Kennet said, her voice impassive.

'Yes, so my report said,' Persis said. 'The landlord of the place found them, and called us in.'

'The Law Enforcement Squad had already taken him into custody when we got here,' Kennet said. 'So your lot have got him. We'll need to talk to him, though. And I'd like to have a look at that report, if I can.'

'I'll get on with it, will I?' Scorpius asked, not wanting to be in that room longer than he had to be.

He worked quickly, trying not to look at the dead people in the middle of the room. It was hard to make a complete line of powder around the whole scene, and impossible to make it a circle, but the shape didn't really matter, so long as there were no breaks in it. That done, he positioned himself carefully outside the ring, and began to mutter the incantations. In his concentration, he almost forgot his audience. The powder from his ring began to rise, blending together to make a circular curtain of pale blue smoke, in which shadowy figures moved.

Scorpius stepped back, relief flooding him. It was working. At least, this part was. It was like watching mist swirl—impossible to make any sense or picture of. His three companions peered into it, as if trying to see, but Scorpius didn't bother. It was later that it would come clear, and he would know if there was anything to see.

'That's it done,' he said at last, as the air began to clear, and the powder to settle back down to where he had placed it. 'It can only take impressions of the most recent activity. Too far back, and it just fades out.'

'Was it far enough?' Weasley asked.

'I can't tell, but it should have been. It only happened a few hours ago, didn't it?'

Nobody answered this question, although he waited a moment. Clearly, he wasn't meant to ask questions, although, given that he was the one who was going to be interpreting this evidence—if there was any evidence to interpret—and he had already signed confidentiality agreements, he didn't know what good keeping him in the dark was meant to do. However, he wasn't sure how much he _wanted_ to know. He turned with a small shrug, and, with a wave of his wand, gathered the powder back into its bag.

They left the room together, quietly closing the door behind them.

'And now what?' Auror Kennet asked Scorpius, when they were all back in the hallway.

'Now I have to try to create a reconstruction of what happened,' Scorpius said. 'I've got a space set up for it back at the Department for Law Enforcement. Might take the rest of the day, or even a bit longer.'

Kennet glanced from him to Persis.

'We're going to need the results of this,' she said. 'I mean, if this really does what you says it does, this could be a crucial development.'

Scorpius's gaze also flicked to Persis. Her face hadn't moved, but there was a certain grim resignation in her eyes. Of course, the Auror Department _did_ need his results. Solving this crime was the most important thing. But at the same time, it had been Persis who had taken the gamble and championed his cause. Given him a chance, where other people had dismissed his ideas as flashy gimmicks, more suitable for a toy shop than for Ministry work. And now she and her task force weren't going to get a look in.

'My contract's with the Criminal Investigation Unit,' he pointed out. 'I'm not a Ministry employee, but they're the ones who put up the money for me to finish this thing. I've been working on their behalf.'

Kennet stared at him, her eyes narrowing.

'The Auror Department is in charge of this investigation, Mr Malfoy. That decision has come from the top. Any evidence related to this case will have to be handed over, as Ms McKay will tell you.'

'Of course it will,' Persis said, still expressionless. 'We'll naturally co-operate in any way we can.'

Scorpius took a deep breath. He much preferred to keep his head down—he'd been doing it all his life. But he'd put himself out there on this occasion, and he'd promised himself that he wouldn't give in or back down this time.

'Or,' he said, as reasonably as he possibly could, 'you could work directly with the CIU, and the cutting edge methods they've been developing. Take Persis on the case, and you'll get the results direct. No delay, and no paperwork over transfers or whatever.'

For a moment, Kennet said nothing. He'd annoyed her, for sure. He shouldn't have said anything. Who the hell was he to start telling a Senior Auror how to manage her cases?

Then she smiled.

'Well, Mr Malfoy, that's not my call to make—at least not alone. But I don't see any real reason why it shouldn't be possible, and I'll certainly suggest it. If Ms McKay is open to collaboration.'

A smile hovered on Persis's face. She looked amused, but also, Scorpius thought, somewhat pleased.

'I'll have to suggest it up the chain too,' she said. 'But I'd like to be involved, if I can.'

Kennet hesitated for a moment, then said, 'Well, I can't tell you anything about our wider context without permission, but, considering that you came here ready to work on the case, I personally would appreciate anything you can tell us about it, and any insights you've got, Ms McKay. If you're able to stay.'

'I am, and I'd be glad to,' Persis said. She caught Scorpius's eye, and gave him a small smile. 'Are you all right to head back without me? You know what you're doing.' She took a small, white, metal token from her pocket. 'This'll get you back into the Ministry and the department. It'll also get you access to my account in the canteen. Get yourself some food and a coffee—you've earned it.'

It wasn't quite a thank you, but he understood, and smiled back.

'Thanks.'

'Rose, I want you to head back as well,' Kennet said, then went on, as Weasley opened her mouth in protest. 'No, I mean it. You've been here for hours. Go and take a break, then report back to the department.'

And so Scorpius found himself returning to the Ministry with Rose Weasley. His legs were a little shaky as they got there, and the image of what he'd seen in that room, the three people who had died so horribly, kept replaying in his mind. Even Weasley looked a little strained, as she turned towards him in the Ministry entrance hall.

'That was nice of you,' she said.

He stared at her, taken by surprise. He and Weasley had never really spoken, except the odd sarcastic comment exchanged in the classroom. She didn't like him, he knew that much, and he'd never been her biggest fan either. What was she even talking about? What had been nice of him?

'Pushing for Persis to be on the case,' she said, with a touch of impatience.

'Oh! Oh, well.' He shrugged. 'She's been helping me out.' He looked curiously at her. 'How do you know her?'

'Persis? I don't know her that well. Only a bit, through Teddy.'

He still had no idea what she was talking about, and she must have been able to see it on his face.

'Teddy Lupin. You know, your cousin? She's one of Teddy's best friends from Hogwarts. I assumed she'd have mentioned it, if you've been working together.'

'No. I didn't know.' It had never come up. There had never been a reason for it to come up; they'd only talked about work things. And it wasn't as though he really knew Teddy. They'd only met once, and that was when Scorpius had been little.

'Well,' Weasley went on, 'I think we're probably heading for the same place. So are you coming to get coffee? It's actually pretty decent in the canteen.'

Today was setting up to be one of the weirdest he'd ever had. First dead bodies, and now being invited for coffee by Rose Weasley—in a way that was almost friendly, something he hadn't really known Weasley was capable of. If he was completely honest with himself, he'd been intimidated by her when they were at school, and it was hard to throw that off entirely. Then again, they were adults now. And he was quite good friends with one or two of her cousins.

He nodded, trying to look as if this was all completely normal, although he'd probably left too long a pause for that to be very successful.

'Yeah, sure. Let's go.'

It was clearly tea-break time at the Ministry, because the canteen was full of people. They had to queue for coffee, and Scorpius was tempted by the large array of different cakes and pastries on offer, but felt too awkward to pick one up, since he was on Persis's tab. Of course, he'd done her a favour, and she had said get food, but still. Weasley had no such worries, and helped herself to something that called itself a pumpkin, walnut and nasturtium breakfast muffin.

As they pushed out of the crowds at the counter, Scorpius caught sight of a tall figure with a familiar mess of sand-coloured curls just joining the queue.

'Hey!' he called, vastly relieved. 'Danny!' Now he wouldn't have to sit alone with Weasley.

Dannicus Urquhart, one of Scorpius's closest friends from Hogwarts, turned, and his face lit up with a grin.

'Hey, Scorp! What are you doing here?' He left the queue and stepped towards them, then his eyes fell on Weasley, and his face changed.

In all the years they'd been friends, the only other time Scorpius could remember seeing Danny look so discomfited had been the day James Potter had spiked all the Slytherin goblets with Veritaserum. For a moment, his face was a mask of surprise, then he turned a shade of dark pink, an expression of total dismay on his face.

Completely confused, Scorpius stared at him.

'Er, I came for a work thing,' he said, looking from Danny to Weasley for an explanation for Danny's bizarre behaviour.

She was looking at Danny, and although her face didn't give as much away, her pale skin had gone several shades redder, and she seemed to have frozen. If anything, that was weirder. He had _never_ seen Rose Weasley anything other than in total control.

'Er…' he said, somewhat lost for words.

'Morning, Urquhart.' Weasley, predictably, recovered first, although she wasn't exactly _looking_ at Danny as she spoke to him.

'Um… hey.' Danny sounded as if he was recovering from an extended _Sonorus_ spell.

Weasley turned to Scorpius, and she'd resumed her usual colour.

'Well, I'm going to take these up to the office with me, and check in. They'll probably be waiting for my report. See you around.'

And with that, she was gone, her distinctive figure pushing through the milling people. For a moment, Scorpius stared after her, clutching his mug of coffee. Then he turned back to Dannicus. His friend had gone even more darkly red, and wasn't meeting his eyes.

'Okay,' Scorpius said, recovering his breath. 'What the hell was _that_?'

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	2. A Day of Revelations

The Hogwarts Inter-House Drama Club met at 4pm on Thursday afternoons, in the History of Magic classroom.

The first meeting of the year was committee-only. It was the meeting that would decide on their programme for the year, and any changes to the running of the club that needed to be made.

Iseult Malfoy, helping to push the desks out of the way and pull up chairs, was suddenly accosted from behind by a large pair of arms that grabbed her, and pulled her backwards into someone's chest.

'Malfoy!' a voice bellowed in her ear. 'Where've you been hiding?'

'Ow!' Issie dug her elbow back hard, gasping for breath, and struggled away as her assailant let her go with a yelp. She turned to face him, hands on her hips. 'Is that your idea of a friendly hug, or are you trying to kill me, Hart?'

Titus Hart, nearly a foot taller than her, and broad to match it—built like the Beater he was—grinned at her, unabashed, though he massaged a spot on his ribs.

'You have fucking sharp elbows, anyone ever tell you that, Malfoy? Anyway, congrats on the badge. You're going to lose, but I'm sure you'll put up a good fight.'

'Let's see if you're so smug after our first match,' she retorted, although a grin pulled at her mouth, and her hand went self-consciously to the little red and gold badge pinned on her tie, new this year. 'Did you see the Harpies match, by the way? Seems like they've got a good shot at the title this year.'

'They always have a good shot,' he replied. 'Just can't seem to go the last mile, can they? Bit like Gryffindor ever since James Potter left. By the way, you're going to have a bit of a job replacing all those people who left at the end of last year, aren't you?'

She was. She knew she was, and it gave her a small twinge of anxiety, although it was accompanied by a thrill. It was a challenge, but it was one she was determined to meet. And she certainly wasn't going to admit any of her nerves to Titus Hart, who might be a friend, but was also Slytherin Captain—and Slytherin had won the cup under him the previous year.

'Might be tricky for _you_ to find four new players in one year, but there are plenty of good people to choose from in Gryffindor,' she said, tilting her chin up. 'Thanks for your concern, though.'

Titus chuckled, but at that moment Lucy Weasley, club founder, Chairperson, and erstwhile Director of shows, rapped on a desk with her knuckles to start the meeting. Issie and Titus found themselves seats, and postponed the rest of their discussion.

"Okay, guys." Lucy grinned round, when everyone was settled. "Great to see you all, but let's catch up when we've got the business out of the way. Now, obviously, this year's going to be a bit different. Not as different as next year…"

"Don't remind us of that!" Pádraig Finnigan protested, sprawled back in a chair that was tilted on its two rear legs.

"Well, I can't help it—it's what we're here to talk about. So, half of us—more than half—have got NEWTs at the end of the year. And I've got Head Girl stuff too. We have to face the fact that we're not going to be able to do as much as usual, but we want to do _something_ —it's our last year. The question is whether you sixth-years are happy to do a bit more. I mean, you're going to have to next year, anyway. Unless you decide not to keep going with it."

"Of course we're going to keep going with it!" Alice Longbottom, sitting beside Issie, pushed her long, blonde ponytail back over her shoulder. "And we don't mind doing more—do we?" She looked around at her friends.

Issie hesitated. "I've got the Quidditch team," she pointed out.

She loved the drama club—even if she had come very close to quitting during her first year as part of it—but Quidditch would always have to come first. She wasn't sure how much time being captain would take up, but she suspected it might be quite a lot.

"Oh yeah, congratulations on getting captain, by the way!" Lucy sent Issie a bright flash of a smile. "I get that. And I know some of you are prefects and stuff too. Our idea—mine and Tilly's—' She nodded at Matilda Thomas, Vice-Chair, Producer, and Lucy's best friend, 'is that we could bring in some of the fifth-years to help too. Some of them have been in the club since the start, and they're really keen. And we need to start training them up, because in two years, none of us are going to be here."

It was a strange and sad reminder. Not that Issie was exactly dreading life after Hogwarts—she was sure there would be stuff to look forward to—but their little golden circle would be all broken up. Even next year, with the seventh-years away, nothing would be the same, and Issie liked things as they were.

The meeting went on. The sixth-years, as a whole, agreed that they could take up the slack when NEWT pressure began to pile on. Options for which of the fifth-years might be up for organisational roles were discussed. Lucy and Tilly's idea for a play was accepted as usual, although Pádraig—also as usual—complained about their fondness for Shakespeare.

'Well, we started with Shakespeare,' Lucy explained. 'So we wanted to end with it too. And _The Winter's Tale_ 's a good one.'

'Well, you're not giving me a part,' Pádraig said. 'I'm not learning Shakespeare _and_ doing NEWTs.'

Lucy and Tilly ignored this, as Pádraig declared every year that he wouldn't take a part, then always did, because he was their best male actor. The thing was settled, auditions were arranged for the following week, and the meeting was formally adjourned.

As they put the classroom back the way they'd found it, Issie floated a chair back to its position, then wandered up to where a pretty girl, with long, dark hair in carefully messy waves, was straightening a table, and managing to make it look as though she was bestowing a favour on the furniture.

'Hey, Eris,' Issie said. 'I wanted to ask you something.'

Eris Montague turned towards her. 'Yeah? What is it?'

'It's nothing to do with the club. I was just wondering—d'you know how Addy Goyle's getting on?'

Eris frowned. 'Addy Goyle?'

'Yes. Come on, you know who she is,' Issie said, impatiently. 'She's just started Hogwarts this year, and she's in Slytherin, and I'm worried about her.'

'It's literally the second day of term. How am I supposed to know anything?' Eris rolled her eyes. 'Why are you worrying about some first-year kid?'

'Well, you know what Addy's like,' Issie said.

'Not really, no.' Eris shrugged. 'I don't know her. I hadn't seen her for years until the Sorting last night. And every time I met her when we were kids, she was completely silent.'

'Yeah, exactly. That's the point. She barely talks. I haven't really seen her for a while either, but when she was little, she didn't speak at all, except to people she knew. I just think Hogwarts is going to be pretty hard for her. Could you maybe, you know, keep an eye on her a bit?'

'Do I look like a babysitter?' Eris demanded.

'No, you look like a Slytherin prefect,' Issie said. 'That's part of your job!'

'Well, Weylin's a Slytherin, and he's also a prefect.' Eris glanced over at where Weylin Nott was talking to Alice at the other side of the room. 'I'm pretty sure he'd be a lot better than me at helping socially awkward first-years. Why don't you ask him?'

'Merlin, Eris.' Issie glared at her. 'I'm not asking you to do much. And I'm not going to ask Weylin. His family and the Goyles…'

'Oh, yeah. Greg Goyle was banged up when Weylin's parents were, wasn't he? So they ought to be old friends.'

'And you know they're not. Weylin hates what his parents did—I'm not going to remind him of it. He's going to have enough reminders this year, with them coming out of prison. But don't worry about it—I thought you might be up for doing something tiny and kind for once, but obviously not, so forget it.'

'Okay, fine.' Eris sighed deeply. 'If you're that worried, I'll look to see who she's hanging round with. I'll even say hello to her in the common room—which will probably freak the hell out of her, since she won't even know who I am.'

'Who are you freaking out by saying hello?' Titus asked, leaning into their conversation.

'Adelaide Goyle,' Eris said.

'Adelaide Goyle?' Titus frowned. 'Isn't she a first-year?'

'Yeah, and I've known her for years,' Issie explained. 'Her family and mine used to be kind of friends. But she… Well, things aren't that easy for her. She's not very good at talking to people. I just wanted to keep an eye out for her.'

'Oh, okay.' Titus grinned. 'Well, I'll keep an eye out for her too. Constant bodyguard, if you want. If anyone talks to her, I'll scare them off.'

'Don't be stupid.' Issie sighed, knowing that Titus was perfectly capable of carrying out what he threatened. 'I _want_ her to talk to people and make friends. I'm just worried she won't. Just… just check she looks okay, and nobody's teasing her or anything.'

'Got it, boss.' Titus gave her a mock salute, and wandered off again.

Issie only hoped he wouldn't accidentally do anything to scare Addy.

Once the desks were back in their places and people were leaving, Issie crossed the room to find Alice. Weylin had gone, and Alice was talking to Lucy instead.

As Issie reached them, Alice said in a lowered voice, 'Lucy, is it true, what happened to Lily the other week?'

'Is what true?' Issie asked.

She knew Lily Potter—for one thing, she was friends with Scorpius, and for another, Lily had been kind to her when Issie herself had been a first-year, and feeling out of place in Gryffindor.

Alice looked uncertainly at Lucy, who bit her lip.

'I'm not really meant to be talking about it,' she said. 'How much d'you know, Alice?'

Alice turned slightly pink. 'Only what I heard Dad tell Mum. And he only knew what Uncle Harry had told him. It wasn't, like, details or anything.'

'What are you on about?' Issie looked from one of them to the other. 'Is Lily okay?' She had heard nothing, either from Scorpius or anyone else. 'Come on, I won't tell anyone,' she added, as the other two still looked unsure.

'I know you won't,' Lucy agreed. 'But I don't even know the details myself. They're keeping it pretty quiet. Lily had a bit of an accident with a Time-Turner.'

' _What_?' Issie stared at Lucy. 'What d'you mean, an accident? Is she all right? What happened?'

'Yeah, she's fine, but I really can't say any more.' Lucy looked uncomfortable. 'I'm sorry—I trust you guys, but it's not my secret, you know? Anyway, I hardly know anything. Seriously, I can't tell you any more than that. She's definitely all right, though.'

'Okay.' Issie nodded, glancing at Alice, who shrugged back. 'Don't worry—I get that.'

She would certainly be having a quiet probe of what Scorpius knew about this, though, Issie thought, as she made her way back to the common room with Alice and Jake Nelson, their other friend. Although maybe she shouldn't—maybe Lily hadn't told him, and would rather nobody knew.

Thinking of her brother reminded her that he was supposed to have been testing his new invention today, and she checked the Communicator in her pocket. Nothing. She was slightly disappointed—he knew she was interested, and had promised to let her know how it went.

'So, Issie.' Jake interrupted her thoughts. 'Are you going to be holding Quidditch try-outs, then?'

Issie slipped her Communicator back into her robes, and shook off thoughts of Scorpius, and of Lily, and even Addy Goyle. After all, this year, Quidditch was going to be the important thing.

* * *

Scorpius rested his forehead in his hands, and rubbed the heels of them into his eyes. His head ached, and it felt as though grit was rolling behind his eyes. For hours, now, he'd been staring at grey, misty shapes, and trying to make them less grey and less misty. And now he thought he'd finally succeeded.

He'd tried not to look in detail at any of the stuff that happened after the victims had been left, tied, on the floor of the room, for the Venomous Tentacular to do its worst. After all, there was little that that material could add—they already knew what had happened. ' _Who?'_ was the question they were trying to answer. And he thought he had the answers for them, although the faces he'd seen meant nothing to him, because he didn't know them.

When he had realised that—that they were strangers—something had flooded through him that he recognised as relief. Until that moment, he hadn't known the fear was there—that he _would_ know them. But he didn't, and he was glad that he didn't. It made it easier to know that at least the murderers were nameless strangers.

Scorpius wanted to stop looking at this stuff, though. He wanted to stop thinking about that scene in the house, stop seeing it, stop examining the faces of the people who had committed this horror.

'Tea?' said a voice behind him.

He lifted his head, and Persis was there, holding two steaming mugs.

'That'd be brilliant. Thanks,' he said, gratefully.

She put one mug down at his elbow, and leaned on the desk next to him.

'I didn't know you were still here,' he said, taking a sip, and almost burning the roof of his mouth off.

'I had reports to write. And I wanted to know what you found.'

'Well, it's all there.' Scorpius waved a hand at the blue, glass bowl in front of him. 'You ought to be able to use it a bit like a Pensieve now. The images aren't as clear, though—and I hope you can make more of them than I can, because all I saw was a set of strangers.'

'So it worked?' she asked.

He nodded. 'Yeah. Yeah, I s'pose it did.'

Funny, but that side of it had hardly occurred to him until now. He'd been so caught up in the grimness of it all that he'd almost forgotten what he was really doing. It had _worked_. And the Auror Department was interested. A kind of tired elation washed over him, and he grinned at her.

'It worked.'

She smiled back, and held her mug up. 'Well, congratulations. I'll drink to that.'

He laughed, and they clinked their mugs gently together.

'You should go home,' she said, a few moments later. 'You've done more than a full day's work here. It's six pm.'

'I s'pose I should. I've done just about as much as I can, anyway. I'll just secure it so it's safe to leave overnight, and then I'll head off. What about you?'

'I've got a few bits and pieces to sort out before I go. But I'll be in touch tomorrow, okay?'

'Yeah, that's great. See you.'

'Bye, Scorpius. And good job today.'

He realised, as he left the Ministry, that he had meant to ask her about what Weasley had told him—the fact that she was friends with his cousin, Teddy Lupin, and had never said anything, though she must surely be aware of the relationship.

Why should she say anything, though? Why would she think it would be of interest? But part of Scorpius felt regretful when he thought about those family members he had never really known. It wasn't as if he had much extended family, or as if he liked very much of what he had.

Then again, he had been friends with Lily Potter for years, and he had never talked to her about Teddy. It sort of felt a bit late—and a bit redundant—now.

He didn't go home—he lived alone, in a tiny little bedsit that offended his grandparents, even though they had never been there, because he had not let them buy him somewhere nicer. He had nothing to go home to except last night's leftovers, the washing up he hadn't done, his owl, and the large, scrawny, stray cat that had, for reasons unknown, decided it liked his flat and wanted to stay there.

Instead, he went to the Leaky Cauldron. There were always people there, and somehow, after so long working alone, poring over the agonising last hours of three lives, he wanted people. Some of them might even be people he knew—though whether they would also be people he liked was a different matter.

He ordered a Butterbeer and a burger at the bar, for he was, he realised, very hungry. He'd really have liked a Firewhisky, but eating dinner alone at a table was bad enough, without adding drinking Firewhisky alone.

It wasn't actually that he had no friends, just that his friends were all elsewhere—Danny, he knew (because Danny complained about it constantly), had dinner with his parents on Thursday nights, and Calypso was on a date with her very new girlfriend. He could have tried Hazel, but she too frequently came with the attachment of James Potter, and as for Lily, Scorpius hadn't seen her for three weeks. Last week, she had excused her absence from society by saying she had flu, and would let him know when she was up to being out and about.

That more or less exhausted the list of people Scorpius enjoyed hanging out with, aside from his little sister, who was surprisingly good company these days. But Issie was at school—which thought reminded him, as he waited for his drink, that he had promised her an update on how the day went. But he wasn't sure what to say—wasn't sure how much he _could_ say, without breaking his agreement of confidentiality. Maybe he'd write to her later, and explain that.

His Butterbeer arrived, and the woman behind the bar assured him that she would send his food over. Scorpius picked up the drink, but, as he was turning to find a seat, a voice spoke his name.

He swung around again, and found himself face-to-face with a small, dark girl, with big, brown eyes and a slightly shy smile. It seemed that he was fated to run into members of this family today, although this one was a somewhat less unwelcome sight. He found himself smiling back.

'Oh, hey,' he said. 'Sorry, I didn't see you there.'

He had only met Roxanne Weasley a bare handful of times, and mostly because of Lily. Roxanne had been the year between them at Hogwarts, and a Ravenclaw, but she and Lily were quite close. His acquaintance with her, however, had been a matter of a few politely exchanged words, until about a month ago, when he had bumped into her by chance, and they had ended up having coffee together. She was quieter than most of the Weasleys he knew, which was a relief.

'That's okay. Are you meeting someone?' she asked, looking at the drink in his hand.

'Oh. No, actually, I'm just…' He shrugged. 'Well, it was a long day. I fancied a drink and something to eat. How about you?'

'I'm just on my way home from work,' she said, gesturing at her clothes, which, now that he noticed, seemed to be a uniform—navy blue blouse and skirt, with scarlet details. 'I'm just dropping these off. Hannah Longbottom said she'd put them out.' She waved a handful of what looked like flyers for something.

'What are they for?' he asked, his eyes following them.

'Oh, just a work thing.' For some reason, she looked a little self-conscious. 'We're, um, we're starting a new line of clothes, so we're having a little opening show.'

A memory clicked in. She worked in the new little boutique in Diagon Alley. He couldn't remember the name of it, but it was said to be somewhat more youth friendly than the old-fashioned styles of Madam Malkin's. And last time he'd seen her, that rainy day when they'd taken shelter in the coffee shop, she'd been laden down with all sorts of fabrics and materials.

'Did you work on the new line?' he asked.

Now she was definitely blushing. 'Um, I did, actually. I sort of designed some of it. It's kind of combining some traditional robe styles with a much more modern look, and we used magic to enhance the fabrics and give certain effects.'

'Scuse me.' They were interrupted by a young waiter who looked no more than eighteen. 'Did you order a chicken burger? And d'you want it here, or are you sitting down?'

'Oh, yeah, I did,' Scorpius said. 'Um, just leave it there, that's fine.'

'Merlin, I'm sorry.' Roxanne looked mortified. 'I'm rambling on about clothes styles, and you're trying to have your dinner. Just tell me to shut up.'

He could have told her that it was a lot more pleasant than thinking about murder. Instead, without thinking, he said, 'Look, are you going anywhere? You're welcome to join me.'

He wasn't sure what had possessed him as soon as the words were out of his mouth, because why would she want to join him? The food at the Leaky was good, but she probably had perfectly good dinner plans waiting for her somewhere else. And they hardly knew each other.

She stared at him, obviously startled.

'Um. I'm not going anywhere,' she said. 'At least, only home, and that doesn't matter. But are you sure…?'

'Wouldn't have asked if I wasn't,' he said.

And it was true. He had wanted some company, and somehow Roxanne's was relaxing. He'd noticed that last time, too. There was none of the baggage he usually found when talking to members of that family—even with the ones he was on fairly good terms with, like Albus, there was always that shadowy knowledge they couldn't forget, that he was a Malfoy and they were a Weasley, or a Potter, as the case might be. It had taken a long time to get over it, even with Lily.

But for some reason, with Roxanne, it wasn't there. It might be awkward, because he didn't think either of them was the type of person who usually had dinner with near-strangers, but it didn't have that hard edge to it.

She smiled suddenly, and her full smile changed her face entirely, banishing her slight hesitance, and lighting her up with a sparkling warmth that he responded to instantly, his own reservations dropping away. _She's beautiful_. The thought was entirely unbidden, entirely unexpected, and not the kind of thought he usually had about random girls he barely knew. _Theoretically good-looking_ , yes. _Attractive_ , well, yeah, okay. _Beautiful_ was something new, and maybe not everyone would agree with him, but he couldn't un-have the thought now that he'd had it. It was true.

'Um, Scorpius?'

She'd said something, and he'd missed it, because he'd been too busy staring at her like an idiot. Merlin. He felt his face heat him.

'Yeah, sorry. Er, what was that?'

'I said, should we find somewhere to sit?'

'Yeah. Look, let's order you some food. Mine's here already, but I'll wait. Their warming spells are pretty good. And d'you want anything to drink?'

He turned to reach her a menu, glad to be able to hide his face for a moment. _Merlin_. Earlier, he'd thought this day couldn't possibly get any weirder. Clearly, he'd been wrong.


	3. Trials

Quidditch took over Issie's life for the next few days.

On Friday morning, she posted notices in the Gryffindor common room, advertising try-outs, and on Saturday, she waited by the pitch, her stomach churning, hoping that people would turn up.

The Gryffindor team was decimated this year—the outgoing seventh-years the previous year had included two Chasers, a Beater, and the Keeper. It was daunting enough to think that she had to pick four new players, without even thinking about the prospect of training them up so that they could win a game in a matter of weeks.

Mentally, as she waited, Issie cursed Alex McLaggen, the previous captain—she liked Alex, but he'd been a terrible captain, picking two of his own seventh-year friends to replace Lily Potter and Rufus Magorian, without apparently realising that this meant that, when you counted in Liam Nicolson and Alex himself, the majority of the team would leave at the end of the year. It didn't matter how good his friends had been; that was bad strategy.

Along with most of Alex's strategies. Last year had been the most disastrous year for Gryffindor Quidditch that anyone could remember. Issie still went cold inside as she remembered their horrendous, humiliating loss to Ravenclaw, by over 400 points. Even Titus had never teased her about that, which showed just how bad it bad been.

Her two existing players stood beside her—she'd asked them to come, ostensibly so that they could play opposite the new candidates, although it was really as much for moral support. One of them was Jake, who played the other Beater position, and Issie was deeply relieved to have him there. He might have been a slightly more absent friend recently, since he'd got himself a girlfriend just before the summer, but he had still been one of her best friends since first year. The sole remaining Chaser was a seventh-year, Robyn MacMillan.

'D'you reckon anyone'll come?' Issie asked, nervously, flicking through the notebook in which she'd written up a plan for the trials. She knew what she'd written off by heart, but it was comforting to have it there.

'Of course they will,' Robyn said, reassuringly. 'They always do.'

'Here come some of them now,' Jake said, with a grin, pointing.

Issie looked round, eagerly, then rolled her eyes. Coming onto the pitch were Antigone Felling and Sam Punton, two of Issie's dormmates. Tiggi, having never previously shown any interest in Quidditch, had been to every practise since she and Jake had started going out—a fact Issie found baffling, since there was rarely anything exciting to be seen at practise. She often dragged Sam with her, presumably so that she didn't have to sit alone in the stands, although Sam did at least like Quidditch.

'That's your _girlfriend_ ,' she told Jake. 'Unless she's come to try out, she doesn't count.'

'Tiggi isn't trying out,' Jake said. 'But Sam is.'

Issie stared at him, then back at her two friends as they approached.

'Why d'you think they were coming to every practise last term?' Jake went on.

Issie blinked. 'I assumed Tiggi came to watch you.'

He grinned smugly. 'Well, that might have been _some_ of the reason. But it's not the reason Sam came. At least, not as far as I know.'

He broke off as the two girls came within earshot, and went to greet Tiggi. Sam bounced past them and up to Issie, beaming.

'Hey! I'm trying out—you don't mind, do you?'

Issie banished her initial surprise. 'Of course I don't mind! But why didn't you tell me?'

Sam laughed, sounding a tiny bit self-conscious.

'Well, I don't know. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. You've been on the team so long—I'd have wanted to ask you for advice, and that wouldn't be fair on the others, just because we're friends, would it?'

Issie smiled at her. She supposed it was true—it would have been hard to refrain from giving Sam pointers.

'Well, I'm glad you're here, anyway,' she said, sincerely. 'I was worried nobody would come.'

'You don't need to worry about that,' said Robyn. 'Look.'

Issie looked up, and an entire crowd was approaching onto the pitch in little groups. Her heart lifted. Surely, among all that lot, would be four great players.

She waited a while longer, then looked at her watch. It was three minutes after the time she'd said, so anyone who came now was officially late.

'You ready?' she asked Robyn.

'I am. Not sure about him, though.' Robyn gestured to where Jake and Tiggi were busily engaged in giving a PDA in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

Issie sighed, and marched over.

'Oi! When you two have finished eating each other's faces, I have Quidditch trials to run,' she said loudly.

They broke apart, although neither of them seemed remotely embarrassed. Jake grinned.

'Ready to go when you are, Captain.'

She started with the Chasers. It was the most popular position, and the largest group of candidates, although Sam was not part of it, and Issie realised that she hadn't actually asked Sam which position she was trying for.

The group ranged from a couple of seventh-years, both of whom had tried out the previous year and been unsuccessful—not that Issie was ruling them out, since she didn't trust Alex's judgement—to a small boy with a head of untidy brown curls, scabs on his knees, below the shorts he was wearing, and an angelic smile. She recognised him as Lysander Scamander, a second-year, and distinguishable from his brother only by the facts that Lorcan was in Ravenclaw, usually managed to look somewhat neater and cleaner, and was less often seen in detention.

The plan she'd created involved several laps around the pitch to watch their speed and techniques, some dodging of bludgers hit by Jake, and, after dividing them into groups of three, four lengths of the pitch, passing the Quaffle between them. Then she brought the prospective Keepers in, and, after warming them up with a couple of laps themselves, she put the Keepers and the Chasers up against each other at the hoops.

Somewhat to her surprise, Lysander was one of the best players on the pitch; he scored against even the best of the Keepers—breaking what would otherwise have been a perfect run of saves from fifth-year Melissa Truelove—and although his grip and techniques were erratic, he moved with speed and agility.

It was not until the final group that Sam got off the ground, and she was one of only two girls to be trying out for Beater. Although there was no reason why girls couldn't be excellent Beaters, it was still a position more usually held by boys—and by men in the professional world. Issie told herself that she wouldn't let it influence her, but she did quite like the idea of giving the position to a girl.

She had each of them fly with Jake, batting Bludgers backwards and forwards, to see how they worked with him, and then, in pairs, they flew against Robyn, trying to prevent her from getting to the hoops and scoring. They used Training Bludgers for this, charmed to veer away from a person at the last moment, because otherwise Robyn would have ended the session with half her bones broken. Only one pair actually prevented her from getting to the end, however, and Issie noted both of their names down as the most likely candidates. One of the pair was Sam.

She then dismissed all the candidates, said that she would post a full team list in the common room by the following day, and turned to find Robyn and Jake. Robyn was there, but Jake wasn't, and a wider scan of the area located him, saying goodbye—at least Issie assumed that's what he might have been saying—to Tiggi.

'Wow, those two are really into each other, aren't they?' Robyn commented.

'Apparently,' Issie agreed, with a touch of irritation. Merlin, they would see each other in the common room in a matter of minutes. Was there really any need?

'Are you worried it's going to get in the way of his Quidditch?'

Issie thought about this for a moment. 'No,' she said, in the end. 'Not really. He cares about Quidditch, and Tiggi knows that.' She sighed. 'It's just a bit annoying, to be honest.'

However, when she sat Robyn and Jake down in the changing room to discuss their opinions, Jake's attention returned entirely to Quidditch.

'Sam,' he said immediately, when she asked him about Beaters. 'She was the best out there.'

Issie fiddled with the quill in her hand. She tended to agree with him, but…

'Are we just thinking that because she's our friend, and we want her to be the best?'

'No, you saw how she played!' Jake protested. 'You're with me, right, Robyn? And skill isn't even the only thing you've got to think about. Issie—you and me and Sam used to practise together in _first year_. We've been playing together for years, me and her. You know we can work together.'

Issie bit her lip. All that was true, but she still held back.

'You're thinking about Alex,' Robyn said, suddenly. 'Because he put his friends on the team, and it was a disaster. Aren't you?'

'It's not just that,' Issie burst out. 'I mean, it's not just that he picked his friends. He made it so that four of the team were in the same year—and that's what's making it so difficult for us this year. If I pick Sam, that's me, her and Jake, all in sixth year. I'll just be handing on the exact same situation when I leave!'

Jake and Robyn looked at each other.

'It won't be the exact same situation,' Jake said. 'Three is really different from four. No, it is! We had more than half the team leave at once. They'll have more than half the team staying. It swings the balance the other way.'

'Plus, you're not going to be handing on a situation where your last match was the worst loss we've had for decades,' Robyn said, bluntly. 'Come on, Issie—you're better than Alex. We all know that. You should have been captain last year…'

'There were too many people older than me,' Issie interrupted.

'Yeah, which is the only reason you didn't get it, and look where that landed us. Believe in yourself, Is.' Robyn stood up. 'Because we need some bloody belief if we're going to come back from last year.'

Issie got up very early on Sunday morning, so that she could post her list and then leave the common room before anyone saw it. She had decided to trust Robyn and Jake—and herself—and Sam was in, as the second Beater. She'd chosen Lysander Scamander as Chaser, because, after all, she'd been given her chance when she was only twelve as well, by none other than James Potter.

The other Chaser was a fourth-year called Ruby Yeung, who hadn't scored as many goals as Lysander, or indeed as several other people, but had flown better than anyone on the pitch that day, probably including Issie herself. The new Keeper was Melissa Truelove, the only choice Issie had had no trouble making at all, because Melissa had simply saved far and away more goals than any other candidate.

It was a new, green, untried team, with the odd risky choice on it. But, now that the decision was made, Issie felt positive about it. This was _her_ team, and she would make it a good one.

The following day, an owl from Scorpius arrived. Issie frowned over it as she ate her breakfast. Alice, who had heard something about what Scorpius was trying to do, looked over in concern.

'Didn't it work?' she asked.

'He doesn't really say,' Issie said slowly. It was a strange, cryptic sort of letter. What had Scorpius got himself into? 'He says he can't tell me, because they've made him sign things to say he won't. But he's talking about Aurors.'

Alice swallowed a mouthful of coffee, looking puzzled.

'I thought you said he was working for the Criminal Investigation Unit. They don't usually deal with Auror cases.'

'With them, not for them,' Issie corrected absently, scanning down the letter again. 'You don't think he could have got involved in one of those Muggle attack cases, do you?'

Alice shivered. 'I hope not. They sound horrible.'

'He says he thinks it went well—whatever that means. But he says the case was pretty grim. He doesn't mention the League, so maybe it's not a Muggle attack. But he doesn't mention much of anything.'

The attacks on Muggles had grown disturbingly frequent in recent years. Everyone knew that the League—once advertised as nothing more than a political pressure group—was behind them, but nobody seemed to know who was running the League. The Aurors caught a member every now and again, but the attacks continued.

It created a sick knot in Issie's stomach to think of Scorpius being involved in any way. Of course, he couldn't be in any trouble. If anything, he was involved on the right side, with the Ministry. But it just reminded Issie of the horrible time in her first year, when Mum had been accused of attacking a Muggle girl, and suspicion and hatred had been everywhere.

Alice drained her coffee, and stood up.

'Are you going?' Issie glanced up in surprise from her letter. 'First lesson's not for half an hour.'

'I've got to, sorry,' Alice said. 'Prefects' meeting. I'll see you in Herbology later. I hope Scorpius is okay, and his thing really did go well!'

She disappeared, and Issie gazed after her for a moment. Alice had had prefects' meetings last year too, but it hadn't been so noticeable, because Issie had always had Jake. Now Jake was with Tiggi. Still, Alice couldn't help it, and she couldn't really blame Jake for wanting to be with his girlfriend. Issie shrugged it off, and went back to Scorpius's letter.

Issie had Transfiguration first. Last year, again, she had sat with Jake, but when she entered the classroom, he was already sitting with Tiggi, and there were no free seats immediately around them. Trying not to feel hurt, Issie made for an empty space beside Eris Montague. She was never entirely certain where she stood with Eris—or whether Eris even liked her—but she supposed she could say they were basically friends these days.

'This seat taken?' she asked.

Eris turned and gave her a small smile. 'No, go ahead. Jake ditched you, then?'

'Something like that.' Issie gestured at Jake and Tiggi, a few seats in front of them. 'I never thought they'd last over the summer, but they have. I'm not sure how, because Jake hardly saw her. His parents are Muggles, so they aren't on the floo network.'

'That's probably how they lasted,' Eris said. 'They didn't spend enough time together to start driving each other insane.'

'Don't be mean. Jake's one of my best friends. And Tiggi's my friend too.'

'Sorry.' Eris shrugged her hair—braided today, in an elegant fishtail braid—over her shoulder and glanced sideways at Issie, not sounding terribly sorry at all. 'You're the one who said you didn't think they'd last.'

'Only because they're so different.' Issie sighed. 'Oh well, I suppose opposites attract, and all that.'

'Well, not really,' Eris said. 'I mean, when people say that, they mean people who have different interests, or loud person with a quiet person. But every healthy couple's going to have _something_ in common. Even if it's something basic like having the same sense of humour, or stupid, like both loving Muggle films.'

Issie glanced at Eris, surprised at the level of insight, but Eris was looking down, doodling on her parchment.

'And,' Eris went on, 'no offence to your friends, but Jake's got the sense of humour of a first-year, and I didn't know Tiggi Felling _had_ a sense of humour.'

Issie rolled her eyes. 'You know, if you have to start a sentence with 'no offence,' you can pretty much guarantee it's going to be offensive.'

Eris smirked. 'Well, I'm only agreeing with you. I suppose the one thing they have got in common is that they're two of the hottest people in our year. Which pretty much explains it, I'd have thought. Sex appeal,' she added, as if Issie might not have got her meaning.

Issie laughed reluctantly. It was a bit unfair to think that might be the only reason they were together, but Eris had a point. Not that Issie had ever thought about either of them that way, or ever would, but they were undeniably well-matched as far as looks went.

'By the way,' Eris went on, shifting in her seat so that she was facing Issie a little more, 'I saw Addy Goyle in the common room the other day, and I tried to say hello, but she stared at me like I was going to eat her, then ran away.'

'Oh.' Issie bit her lip. 'Well, thanks for trying.'

She wasn't sure what to do about Addy, or whether she _could_ do anything.

'I see what you mean about her being weird, though,' Eris added. 'She even looks weird. I couldn't see her face past her hair hanging over it. Like a little demiguise that's been left out in the rain.'

'Look, you can be mean about Jake and Tiggi if you want—they can take it,' Issie snapped. She'd had enough of Eris's sniping. 'But leave Addy alone. She's had a really rough time. And I don't know if her problem's social anxiety, or a speech issue, or something else, but whatever it is, it's not funny, so stop making it into a joke, okay?'

There was a short silence.

'Sorry,' Eris at last, and she sounded as if she meant it this time. 'I wasn't really laughing at her. For what it's worth, this morning I saw her hanging around with another kid in her year.'

'Really?' Issie was surprised, despite herself. She'd never seen Addy with anyone her own age. 'Who was it? Did they look friendly? I mean, they were actually hanging out, the kid wasn't picking on Addy or anything?'

'Didn't look like it. I didn't know her, though. Slytherin, small, white with dark hair, kind of cute-looking. I don't think she's a Pureblood. They were looking at one of those weird comics the Goyle kid drags round.'

They had to stop their conversation there, as the lesson was beginning, but Issie's mind wasn't on Transfiguration that morning. Maybe she ought to just leave the first-years to it, but somehow, she felt responsible for Addy. And she'd like to know more about the Slytherin kid who'd apparently befriended her too.

* * *

Rose Weasley was fed up. Mostly because she was bothered and embarrassed, and neither of those were things she was used to feeling. She couldn't believe that she had run away so obviously in the canteen the other day—in front of _Malfoy_ too. No doubt he and Urquhart had had a good laugh at her after she had gone. The thought disgusted her—if there was one thing Rose had made sure of over the years, it was that she was never vulnerable to being laughed at.

It nagged at the back of her mind all weekend, and she was so grumpy with her friends that Sapphie Jordan eventually asked her what on earth was wrong with her. Rose fobbed her off with a non-answer, because this was something she hadn't even told Sapphie.

She had to push it all to one side on Monday morning, however, because work came first, and work was very full-on at the moment. She didn't know everything about the Auror Office's pursuit of the League, since she was only a trainee, but she did know that it was being taken more seriously by the Senior Aurors than anything since the war. Her father had recently taken retirement from the Auror Department, and gone into business with Uncle George, and she knew that he was feeling guilty about leaving the department just now, even though it had been planned all year, since before things started getting bad.

She was half-afraid that Scorpius Malfoy would also turn up at the office, since he somehow seemed to have become crucial to this particular part of the investigation, but there was no sign of him. Natalie Kennet accosted her as soon as she got through the door, however.

'Rose! We're waiting for word through from the Scotland Office on the movement of our possible Number Six. Could come through at any point, and I need someone waiting for it when it does. You're on duty this morning—and while you're here, take a look at these, and see if you can match them to anyone in the files. Cross-check with records from other departments too, if you get through ours, but don't bother with the rest of the Law Enforcement Department—CIU are doing those.'

She put down in front of Rose two indistinct pictures of a man and woman.

Rose stifled a sigh. Sitting in the office waiting for a message and going through criminal files wasn't her idea of an exciting job, but that was the trouble with being a trainee. At least this practical experience part of the course was better than lectures and assignments—although she still had an assignment due in October.

'Who are they?' she asked, picking up the pictures.

'Best impression we've got of the Venomous Tenctacular murderers,' Kennet told her. 'Persis McKay sent them in this morning. Results of Scorpius Malfoy's new method.'

Rose was instantly more alert, her eyebrows shooting up.

'It worked then?'

'It did. And if we can get hold of these two, and prove some link to the League, that'll be a big lead.'

'Why do we think there's a link between these murders and the League?' Rose asked.

It was a question she'd wanted to ask since last week, because it had been puzzling her as much as it must have puzzled Persis McKay when she'd turned up at the crime scene on Thursday.

'Well, we know who one of the victims was, and he was an ex-League member who'd been giving us information,' Kennet said. She hesitated, then went on. 'This is classified information, of course, so it goes no further, but if you're going to be on the case, you should know. There's another reason we made the link. We got a tip-off—if you can call it that. An anonymous letter, sent by a general Post Office owl, with nothing in it except an address. No greeting, no signature, no other message, except a stamp of the League's logo. Arrived on Thursday morning, the same morning the bodies were found, and written with an automatic quill, so we can't trace the handwriting. I expect you can guess the address.'

'That house,' Rose said, bleakly. She liked to think of herself as of a tough constitution, but she didn't like thinking of the scene there.

'Indeed. And that's why we went to the scene to investigate. We had no idea, at that point, what we were going to find.'

'You said you knew one of the victims. What about the other two?' Rose asked.

'We're still working on that. But I'd be willing to bet we'll discover that they pissed the League off somehow too.'

'So that guy had betrayed the League, and the League killed him,' Rose said.

The back of her neck was crawling slightly. This was the first time she had heard of anyone actually being killed by the League directly.

'It looks like it. Which means this isn't just a murder—it's an execution.'

Rose's morning was dull. No message came, and she found nothing of interest in the records she checked. Lunchtime came, and Kennet came back to relieve her.

In the canteen, she saw some of the other Auror trainees at the far side, and then, much closer to her, Dannicus Urquhart, just taking a seat at the table. He was alone, and Rose sighed. She couldn't be a coward. She had to do something about this.

Before she could second guess herself, she strode up to him.

'Urquhart,' she said, 'we need to talk.'

He looked up, and his eyes darted sideways, as if looking for an escape route, then back to her.

'Er. Okay,' he said.

She sat down opposite him, though he hadn't invited her.

'Did you tell him?' she asked, quietly.

'Scorpius?' He shifted in his seat, looking deeply uncomfortable. 'Well, yeah. I kind of had to, after your performance. But you don't need to worry about him. I mean, it's not like there was much to tell.'

' _My_ performance?' she echoed in disbelief. 'I think you'll find you were the one who already made it completely fucking obvious, before I did anything. And the point isn't how much there was to tell, it's who _he_ now goes and tells it to.'

'He won't,' Urquhart protested. 'He's not like that.'

'He'd better not. I'm serious.'

Urquhart was beginning to look slightly annoyed, but she didn't care.

'What's your problem, Weasley? It's not like I created this situation on my own—you were a pretty willing participant.'

Rose felt her face burn, and she hated herself—and him even more—for it.

'Shut up, Urquhart!' she hissed furiously. 'No need to shout about it for the whole Ministry to hear! Just so long as we're clear—it was a mistake, a one-time thing, nobody needs to hear about it, and we never need to refer to it again. Ever. Okay?'

He glared at her. 'Don't worry. I've got it. And I'm very fucking happy with not talking about it. In fact, how about we just go back to never talking to each other at all? Pretty sure I preferred that.'

Rose had herself under control again. 'Great. Perfect, in fact. But I tell you what, if a single person in my family ever hears about it, I will come for you, and I will saw your balls off with a rusty spoon, got it?'

She stood up abruptly, and turned to go.

'Weasley!' he called.

She turned back.

' _What?_ '

Whatever he'd intended to say, it seemed to die under her glare.

'Nothing. Never mind.'


	4. Familiar Faces

Scorpius emptied the tin of cat food into a bowl for the animal that was purring around his ankles, and watched as the cat tucked in. He was putting on weight, which was gratifying, especially considering how much money Scorpius was spending on food for a cat that wasn't technically his. Then he reached for the jar of floo powder on the mantelpiece, and his hand found instead the flyer that Roxanne Weasley had given him.

He picked it up and looked at it for a moment. She had been welcoming in her invitation, although careful to stress that she didn't really expect him to come. And he probably wouldn't go—it was very much not his sort of thing, and he probably wouldn't know many people there. But a small corner of him was tempted, just to see her smile when he turned up.

That whole train of thought was thoroughly alarming, however, and he put the flyer down again hurriedly, and picked up the tin of floo powder instead. He was due at his parents' house for dinner, and he certainly wouldn't be mentioning Roxanne Weasley there.

A moment later, he stepped out of his mum and dad's fire, to find himself immediately facing down a wand that was pointed straight at him.

' _Stupefy!'_ a voice shouted. 'Got you!'

Scorpius clamped a hand to his chest and staggered, grabbing the back of a chair to keep himself upright.

'You win!' he gasped. 'You win—I surrender!'

He was hit by a scampering figure, which flung its arms around him and clambered up his front, bare feet scrabbling on his legs. Scorpius wrapped an arm round the little boy's waist, and hoisted him up, grinning.

'Good to see you too, Cae,' he said.

'Hello, Scorpius—I thought that might be you arriving,' another voice said from the doorway. 'Caelum, how about you let your brother step away from the hearth before jumping on him?'

Scorpius let his little brother drop to the ground, and Caelum raced away, still brandishing his toy wand, while Scorpius went to greet his mother.

'Hey, Mum. Thanks for doing dinner.'

'Yes, well.' She cast her eyes up and down him. 'You don't eat properly. Look at you.'

'Scorpius! Scorpius, look!' Caelum dashed back, clutching a large toy racing car, red with silver stripes.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Wow, that's cool.' He looked up quizzically at his mother. 'A car?'

'If you can believe it, your father bought it for him,' she said, laughing. 'Caelum spotted it in a shop window, and fell in love, and your dad gave in. He spoils that child horribly. First I knew of it was when they brought the thing home, and honestly, I wish you'd have a look at it, and tell me if there's a way to turn it off.'

'Turn it off?' Scorpius looked back at the car. 'Why, what does it do?'

'Look, I'll show you!' Caelum said, proudly, and dived under a chair to retrieve what Scorpius recognised as a remote control.

He pressed some buttons, and the car shot off across the room.

' _Zoom!_ ' Caelum yelled happily, chasing after it.

Scorpius looked at his mother, speechless for a moment at the idea that Dad had actually bought the thing—presumably with Muggle money, which he hadn't known his father even carried.

'The number of times I've almost tripped over it.' She sighed. 'I thought Cae wouldn't be able to use it—he's never had any Muggle toys like that before. But it took him about ten minutes to work it out. He's not too good at steering, though.'

The car came speeding back, and Scorpius had to dodge out of its path.

'I'm surprised it works, with magic around,' he said.

'It doesn't, if anyone casts a spell too close to it. But if you could work out how it actually runs—and how to stop it when we want to—I'd be very grateful.'

'How's his magic coming on?' Scorpius asked, watching his brother charge after the car.

'The other week, he vaulted a five foot fence in the park—luckily nobody saw, but several other parents were _very_ confused about how he'd ended up stuck on the other side of the fence. I'm sure neither of you older two was this much effort, but maybe I'm just getting old.' She looked at Scorpius, with a smile. 'He misses you and Issie, you know, especially when he's just had Issie at home all summer. He's dying for you to read him his bedtime story, by the way, so I hope you're up for that. Now, come through, and see your dad.'

They didn't have a chance to talk about anything serious before or during dinner, with Caelum there. At not quite five, he was much too young to know about anything Scorpius had been doing over the last week, but very much old enough to take in anything that was discussed in front of him. With the meal over, and Caelum prepared for bed, Scorpius went upstairs and read Babbbitty Rabbitty, then came down again to join his parents.

His father was pouring out small glasses of Firewhisky as he came into the living room, and held up the bottle.

'Want one?' he asked Scorpius.

'Oh, yeah, thanks,' Scorpius replied, sinking into a chair and glancing around him.

Thing had changed since Caelum arrived. Scorpius supposed that he and Issie must also have created a certain amount of noise and mess when they were little, but he hardly remembered that. It had never been as grim and silent as the manor where his grandparents lived, but he remembered home being quiet and well-ordered. Mum had done most of the parenting, while Dad had been kind but distant.

Maybe it was what had happened when Caelum was a baby, or maybe it was just because Mum and Dad were more relaxed about bringing up their third child. But Caelum's toys were allowed to spread around the house in a way that Scorpius and Issie's had not been, and it had been Dad who had taken Caelum to clean his teeth and get his pyjamas on.

Scorpius didn't grudge his brother either the extra freedom or the attention. He liked seeing it—it made home a more comfortable place to visit. And it made him feel lucky compared to Danny, whose relationship with his parents seemed to be getting worse.

'So,' Mum said, sitting forward, 'how did it go last week?'

'Pretty well,' Scorpius said, as his father put a glass on the table beside him. 'Thanks, Dad. Anyway, yeah, the CIU wants to use my stuff, and Persis McKay's helping me take out a patent. And the Auror Department's interested, too,' he added casually.

Dad raised his eyebrows. 'Really? So they're taking it seriously?'

Scorpius bit back a smile. Dad had been inclined to be sceptical himself, not that he'd ever said so to Scorpius, but he'd been unable to entirely hide his opinion that Scorpius ought to be embarking on a more stable and sensible career.

'Apparently,' he said. 'I actually ended up using it on an Auror case.'

'Well, that's excellent, darling,' Mum said. 'Well done!'

She cast a glance at Dad, who took a drink before replying.

'Yes, of course,' he said eventually. 'That's very good news, Scorpius.'

He didn't sound entirely approving, but Scorpius wouldn't have expected him to. The Auror Department wasn't exactly filled with Dad's favourite people.

'Actually, I wanted to ask you something,' Scorpius went on. This was entirely against everything he'd been told about the sharing of information, but he had to know. And, whatever his parents might think of it all, he at least trusted their discretion. 'Do you recognise any of these people?'

He took from his pocket several slightly hazy pictures of faces, and passed them to his mother, who was sitting closest. She frowned as she took them, but looked at him rather than at them.

'Why? Who are they?'

'People connected with the case,' Scorpius said, vaguely.

Three were victims, two were perpetrators. The last information Scorpius had heard was that two of the victims had now been identified, although he didn't know who either of them was. The third seemed to be a mystery to everyone, as did the identity of the murderers. Persis had told him as much as she was allowed, but he still didn't know what the Auror interest in the case was all about.

And he knew he ought to leave it to them, and not enquire, but he couldn't help himself. For good or ill, he'd managed to get himself involved in something bigger than he'd expected to, and the possible connection to the group called the League was bothering him, because his family had been involved with them—however reluctantly—before.

He had to know whether any of these people were known to his parents.

Still frowning, Mum looked at them.

'Are you supposed to be showing us these?' she asked.

'Not really,' Scorpius admitted. 'But I know you won't tell anyone.'

'Well, I don't know,' she said, leafing through them. 'It's hard to say. The pictures aren't very clear.'

Dad got up, and walked around behind her, so that he could lean on the back of her chair and see them.

'That one,' he said, pointing. 'Let me see it?'

Scorpius leaned over as his mother passed the picture to his father, excitement and nerves rising in him like nausea. He might be about to help solve part of the mystery, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to. The worst thing would be if it was some close connection of Dad's. And it could be, that was the trouble. Mum and Dad knew most of the people who'd been in the League—had been friends with many of them at one point, even. Aunt Daphne was still in prison for the part she'd played. And exactly what his grandparents' relationship to the League was, Scorpius was unsure.

For a moment, Dad stared at the picture in his hand, then he looked up at Scorpius.

'Well, as your mother said, it's hard to be sure,' he said. 'Apart from anything, if this is who I think it is, I haven't seen him for more than twenty years.'

'Who do you think it is?' Scorpius asked. At least a twenty year gap didn't suggest a very close friendship.

'Well, it looks like Julius Bulstrode,' his father said. 'I didn't know him very well—he was older than me—but I was at school with his sister. Nobody saw him after the war—I heard he'd left the country.'

'Millicent Bulstrode's brother?' Mum said, taking the picture back. 'Yes, I suppose it could be. I knew him even less well than you.'

'Was he a…?' Scorpius couldn't quite finish the question.

'A Death Eater? Merlin, no. The Bulstrodes never quite got themselves high enough in the circle for that. As far as I know, Julius was never even investigated, though his sister was—not Millicent, they had another sister. I can't remember her name, but she and Julius were twins. She married one of the Pritchards, but she was arrested for war crimes—something to do with what she did in the Ministry—and I believe she died in prison.'

Dad's voice was clipped, and Scorpius stared at him in fascination. He so rarely talked about the war.

'What's he done?' Mum asked, after a pause.

Scorpius's heart sank. _Shit_. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

'He, um… Well, I think he killed three people. Or helped to.'

Dad gave a stifled exclamation, and stalked to the window.

'Merlin, Scorpius,' he said, without turning around, his voice tightly under control. 'Try and give me some warning before you drag me into a murder investigation, would you? Have they caught him?'

'No. I don't think they know who he is, though they might have found out by now. I'm sorry,' Scorpius said, genuinely remorseful. 'Would you, um… I mean, if I told Persis…'

Dad turned around.

'Would I go to the Ministry and testify to the identity of my old schoolfriend's brother?'

Scorpius said nothing. He didn't see how he could _not_ tell Persis, and yet, he couldn't force his father to be part of this if he didn't want to be. It was a very big ask. Dad had refused to touch the Dark Arts after the war. He'd wanted nothing to do with the League, when Theo Nott had tried to recruit him. But asking him to turn people in was a different thing completely.

'Well.' His father sighed deeply. 'I don't seem to have much choice, do I?'

* * *

Issie had her first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the year on Tuesday morning. She'd decided to take the subject as a NEWT partly on a whim, because it was a fun lesson, and partly because both Jake and Alice were taking it, and it was the only lesson they'd all have together.

After the war, in the general rebuilding of Hogwarts, a new Care of Magical Creatures building had been constructed, away from the main body of the school, towards the Forbidden Forest. There was a classroom for the subject in the main castle too, which could be used for purely theoretical lessons, but the new block had both a classroom, and spaces that could comfortably—and safely—house large animals temporarily, and meant that the majority of practical lessons didn't have to take place outside in all weathers.

Professor Marchbanks had left at the end of last year, and they were to have a new teacher. Issie had seen him around in the Great Hall, and once in the corridors, but only at a distance. He was young and quite good-looking, and more than a few people had been eyeing him with something that had nothing at all to do with any interest in Care of Magical Creatures, although it was also well-known that he was married.

Issie herself had a decided interest in him, although not from that point of view. She had met him once before, but it had been several years ago, and, so far, he had made no sign that he recognised her.

She, Alice and Jake took seats beside each other in the classroom, and the chatter died away as their new teacher strode up to the front of the class.

'Good morning, everyone,' he said. 'Welcome to the start of your Care of Magical Creatures NEWT course. Some of you know me already—I'm Teddy Lupin. That's Professor Lupin to you lot. I apologise in advance for how often I'm going to forget all your names between now and Christmas.

'Now, I know Professor Marchbanks required at least an A in Care of Magical Creatures at OWLs for you to join this course, so you've all got a good start already. And you ought to know the ground rules by now, but seeing as we're going to be dealing with live animals, and my rules might be slightly different from Professor Marchbanks', let's go over them briefly, shall we? Yes, Mr, er…?'

He looked in their direction, and Issie looked round to find that Jake had his hand up.

'Jake Nelson,' he said. 'Are we going to get to learn about dragons, sir? Because I asked Professor Marchbanks last year, and she said it was too dangerous, but…'

His voice trailed off hopefully, and Issie caught Alice's eye and had to look away quickly before she laughed. Jake had asked about dragons every year since first year, when he had asked in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had been told he'd have to wait until third year to take Care of Magical Creatures. And in third year, and every year since, Marchbanks' answer had always been the same.

Issie suspected that if Tiggi had been in the class, Jake wouldn't have asked, but he had no need to seem cool in front of her and Alice.

Professor Lupin, as Issie supposed she'd have to call him, stared at Jake for a moment, then laughed.

'Interesting question, Jake. The answer is that I'm going to see what I can do about that. You'll certainly be learning some dragon theory—anything more than that, I can't promise.'

Jake looked startled, then delighted.

'Seriously, sir?'

'No promises,' Professor Lupin repeated. 'And it definitely won't be this term. Now, back to our ground rules. Anyone want to give me one?'

As the lesson wore on, Issie found herself feeling glad that she'd taken the subject, even if it didn't necessarily further any sort of career she had in mind. Teddy Lupin was a good teacher, and his lessons seemed like they were going to be interesting. Especially if dragons were really involved.

At the end, they were among the last to leave, and he passed their table, straightening chairs and vanishing pieces of stray parchment that were left behind, tidying up for his next class.

'Hey, Teddy.' Alice beamed at him as he passed. 'Oh—sorry, I'm meant to call you Professor Lupin now, aren't I?'

Teddy Lupin paused, and smiled ruefully at her.

'Hello, Alice. And yes, when you're in the classroom, I'm Professor Lupin, just like your dad's Professor Longbottom. Those are school rules, not my rules.'

Alice laughed. 'I know. Sorry. Great lesson, by the way!'

'Thank you.' He glanced beyond her, at Issie and Jake. 'Good to see you again, Iseult,' he said, quietly. 'I hadn't realised until I was given my class lists last week that you were taking Care of Magical Creatures.'

Issie smiled, slightly uncertainly. Was he implying that he wished she _wasn't_ taking it? Surely it wouldn't be too awkward, even if they were related? It wasn't as if they'd grown up knowing each other. And Professor Longbottom had managed to teach Alice for five years so far, without it being an issue.

'Oh, well, yeah. Here I am,' she said, trying to make it into a joke. 'By the way, though, most people call me Issie.'

 _Most people_ didn't include most of her teachers, though, so there had been no need to tell him that. But, teacher or not, he _was_ her cousin. And his eyes had crinkled into a smile, as though he was pleased with the information.

'Issie,' he repeated. 'Well, I should be able to remember that. And Dragon Boy,' he added, looking at Jake, with a grin.

'Oh, don't get him started,' Alice said, rolling her eyes.

Teddy—Professor Lupin—laughed. 'Ignore her, Jake. I was desperate to learn about dragons when I was at school, but we weren't allowed. I'll do what I can for you.'

As they walked toward the castle, Issie caught sight of a group of first-years also heading in the same direction, although some distance away, coming from the Herbology greenhouses. She saw both green and blue-edged robes, and hesitated. Was Addy there? Yes, she was. She was taller than most of the others around her, though that was offset by the fact that she walked with her shoulders hunched and her head down. Issie wouldn't have expected to see her as part of a group like that. Addy had never been good at groups.

However, as their paths began to converge, and she grew closer to them, she began to catch some words of what they were saying.

'Hey, why don't you talk?' one high little voice demanded.

'Yeah, what's the matter, don't you like us?' another one asked, to a general outbreak of giggles.

'Why have you got your hair all covering your face?' the first one persisted. 'Don't you know how to brush it?'

'Maybe it's because her face is so ugly,' a third voice said.

There was more laughter, and Issie, Alice and Jake looked at each other.

'Should we…?' Alice began.

Issie was already setting off at a fast pace across the grass, towards the little group.

'Let's see your ugly goblin face!' the first voice shrieked, as Issie approached. 'Goblin Goyle!'

Laughing, the girl made a grab for Addy Goyle's hair.

Issie sped up. But someone else was there ahead of her. A small, dark-haired girl pushed herself in between Addy and her tormenters.

'Hey, you leave her alone!' she said, furiously.

'Oh, shut up, _crybaby_ ,' one of the others sneered.

'Yeah, get out of the way! Nobody wants people like you here anyway!'

'What the hell's going on?' Issie broke in, coming to a halt directly in front of them.

There was a sudden silence. Alice and Jake came up behind her, and the laughter died away.

'Nothing,' the first girl muttered, edging away.

Issie glared at them, folding her arms across her chest. In her anger, she was tempted to drag the lot of them up to the school and straight up to their House Heads. Or at least demand that Alice—as a prefect—gave them all detentions. But that might only make things worse. She took a deep breath and got herself under control.

'Get out of here,' she told them instead. 'Go on—all of you!'

They melted away under her glower, and she turned to the two who remained.

Addy stood quite still on the path, facing away from them, arms rigid, her fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. The other girl, undoubtedly the one Eris had mentioned, looked at them warily. Her cheeks were pink, and, although Issie was sure she didn't know the girl, there was something about her that was—no, not quite familiar. It was as if there was a family resemblance to someone Issie might have seen once. Just something about her face that rang a distant bell.

'Are you two okay?' Alice asked.

Addy didn't respond, but the other girl nodded. Issie went round in front of Addy.

'Hey, Addy,' she said, gently. 'It's me. Issie.'

Slowly, Addy's hands stilled, and she raised her head slightly. It was still hard to see much of her expression, because her hair hid it like a curtain, but her lips were trembling.

'It's okay—they've gone,' Issie went on. She turned to the other girl. 'Sorry, I don't think I know you, but I'm Issie Malfoy. I've known Addy since we were kids. That was really nice of you, by the way, sticking up for her. What's your name?'

'Felicity Barlow,' the girl said.

Her voice was clear—and her accent as strongly RP as anyone in Issie's family—but she still seemed cautious, her face unsmiling. The name meant nothing to Issie.

'Have those kids bothered you before?' Jake asked.

'No.' Felicity's gaze slid away, the pinkness of her cheeks increasing.

Issie didn't believe her. Apart from the fact that she _looked_ like she was lying, the ringleader of the little group had called Felicity 'crybaby'—that had to have come from somewhere.

A small hand clutched at Issie's sleeve, and she looked down at Addy, although in fact, she didn't have far to look—Addy was tall for her age, and Issie was not.

'What's up?'

Addy swallowed a couple of times, looking anxiously at the three other people listening.

'Whisper it?' Issie suggested, leaning in, her ear towards Addy.

Addy had always had trouble speaking to people, but she used to be able to talk to Issie most of the time. She leaned forwards, her mouth very close to Issie's ear.

'They… they called her a… a Mudblood _,'_ she whispered, her voice just a low mutter.

Issie stared at her, then at Felicity. She didn't think Addy's voice could have been audible to the others, but Felicity looked like she might have guessed what was being said, and looked uncomfortable.

Well, that was why neither the girl's face nor her name had been familiar, although it didn't explain why Issie had had that strange recognition. Issie wished she was shocked by the revelation, but the truth was, with all the rising trouble, and the attacks against Muggles, it hardly seemed surprising. After all, at that age, people just repeated the words they'd heard other people use.

'You're Muggleborn?' she asked Felicity.

Felicity nodded.

'Oh, cool!' Jake said, cheerfully. 'Me too. It's all a bit weird at first, isn't it?'

Felicity's face lit up with something like hope, her whole demeanour changing from wary suspicion to eagerness. 'Really?' she said. 'The man who came and told me about Hogwarts said there were lots of other people like me, but I… I haven't found any yet.'

'Well, there are plenty of us,' Jake said, sounding surprised. 'I s'pose not so many in Slytherin, though.'

Not so many? Issie couldn't think of a single Muggleborn she'd met in Slytherin. You'd have thought there must be some, but when the whole house had been _founded_ on the principle of blood purity, it made it somewhat unlikely.

'Look, if they pick on you like that again, you should tell someone,' Alice said. 'You can come to us, if you want. I'm a prefect. And there are prefects in Slytherin, too. Do you know Weylin Nott? He'd look out for you.'

Issie tried to catch Alice's eye, because she still didn't think it was a good idea to drag Weylin into looking after Addy Goyle, but Alice wasn't looking at her.

'And there are plenty of other prefects too,' Issie said hurriedly, instead. 'But Addy, you can always come and find me. You know that, right?' A thought occurred to her. 'Have you got a Communicator?'

Addy shook her head silently.

'What's a Communicator?' Felicity asked.

'One of these.' Issie fished out the little circular disc and showed her. 'You can use them to send messages, but it's no use unless you've both got one. Never mind. If you want to find me, Addy, you can always grab me in the Great Hall. Or ask Eris Montague—you know who she is, right? The one who talked to you the other day?'

Addy simply blinked at her, and Issie wished she was easier to read. Who knew whether she'd actually ever approach either Issie or Eris? But maybe her friend would.

'Yes,' Alice agreed. 'Or Weylin. Seriously, if anything like that's happening at all, you _must_ tell someone.'

'And you can always ask, if you just need any tips about how to get by in this weird world of magic,' Jake added, grinning at Felicity. 'Anyway, come on—we're all going in the same direction.'

They began to walk back towards the castle. Felicity looked up at Jake, and took a deep breath.

'How… how do you send messages home? I haven't got an owl, and my mum hasn't got one either. And my mobile doesn't work.'

'Oh, yeah.' Jake pulled a face. 'The joys of no wifi or phone signal. Fraid owl's your only option, at least until you're in third year and can leave school sometimes. But you can borrow a school owl, you know. Just go up to the owlery, and tell them you need a Hogwarts owl—they'll understand you.'

'Really?' Felicity's face lit up in a genuine smile for the first time. 'I never knew that—thanks!'

'Any time.' Jake looked down at her. 'I know it can be pretty confusing at first.'

A few minutes later, as they watched the two first-years disappear down the corridor for their next lesson, Issie shook her head, frowning.

'Well, I'm glad Addy's made a friend. But I'm a bit worried for those two.' And she told Jake and Alice what Addy had confided to her.

Jake's brows came down, and Alice looked even more concerned.

'Wow. D'you think we should maybe tell someone? Like my dad? I feel like the teachers ought to know.'

'Maybe,' Issie said. 'I don't know. I don't want to make it worse.'

'That Addy kid's really going to have a rough time,' Jake commented. 'Does she ever talk?'

'Yes, but not with people she's not comfortable with. She's always been like that.'

'So, let me get this straight,' Jake went on. 'That kid's dad was one of the people who attacked the Muggle village, back in our first year?'

'Greg Goyle, yeah. He's coming out of prison with Weylin's parents in, like, December or something. That's why I wasn't going to involve Weylin.' She shot a glance at Alice.

'Weylin won't mind,' Alice protested. 'He's not like that.'

Issie wasn't so sure—Weylin never talked about his parents, and she thought he did his best not to think about them either. However, she only shrugged.

'Well, anyway. I'm pretty sure things actually got better for Addy and her mum after her dad was locked up. I don't know what's going to happen when he gets out.'

'At least she's got a friend now,' Alice said, encouragingly.

'Yeah,' Issie agreed. 'And that kid seems nice enough. Though I wonder what's going on with her—she's the first Muggleborn I've ever come across in Slytherin. And I mean, not to be funny, but I'm kind of surprised she's hanging out with Addy. Addy can't be the easiest person to make friends with, and I'd have thought it would make Felicity's life simpler if she didn't bother.'

'Well, maybe she's not interested in a simple life,' Alice said. 'Maybe she'd rather make friends with someone nice. Anyway, all we can do is keep an eye on them.'

Issie laughed, feeling a rush of affection for Alice. After all, life would probably also have been somewhat simpler for Alice in first year, if she hadn't made friends with the Malfoy cuckoo in the Gryffindor nest. And yet, here they were.

Maybe Addy just needed some time, and she'd find her place, just as Issie had.


	5. Auror Mission

**A/N: Hope everyone had a great Christmas and/or New Year! Thanks so much to everyone who's read this story so far, especially everyone who's left a review.**

 **Please excuse my cheerful lack of expertise in how a criminal investigation is likely to work, and assume all inaccuracies are just down to this being the Wizarding World, not the real one. ;)**

* * *

'So, let me get this straight. You want to get into someone's house—someone who isn't even a suspect, mind you—on false pretences, and search the house without a warrant, and you want me to authorise this as official Auror business?' Rose's uncle stared across his desk at the three women opposite him. 'I mean, I don't have to explain to a Senior Auror and a Law Enforcement Officer that that's against the law, do I?

'It's not as bad as you're making it sound, sir,' Natalie Kennet pointed out. 'Since this is a case involving a Dark Arts organisation, you have the authority to give us the go-ahead under Special Measures. You just have to agree that it's justified.'

Rose, standing at one side of Kennet, with Persis McKay on the other, remained silent. It was hard to keep her mouth shut with Uncle Harry looking at them so doubtfully, but she told herself that Kennet, in her senior position, would make the case better than Rose ever could.

'She's not a suspect, Natalie,' Uncle Harry said again. 'How am I meant to justify searching her house?'

Kennet glanced at Persis, who took over.

'We received definite information from a credible witness that one of the Venomous Tentacular murderers is Julius Bulstrode. And we pulled the International Apparition records, and Bulstrode entered the country two months ago. There's no record of him leaving again. According to our witness, he's lived abroad since about 2000, and hardly ever comes to the UK. The only person he seems to have had any contact with here is his sister…'

'Who is this witness?' Harry interrupted.

For a moment, Persis hesitated.

'Draco Malfoy,' she said, at last.

Harry stared at her. ' _Draco Malfoy?_ How the hell did he hear anything about this? Did you question him?'

'We made enquiries based on something his son said,' Persis said smoothly. 'You know the visuals are based on Scorpius Malfoy's forensics?'

Rose shot her a glance, keeping her face a careful blank, but inwardly both amused and filled with respect. She was pretty sure, from what Persis had said earlier, that that was not the correct story, but it was one that kept Malfoy out of trouble. Apparently he and Persis had each other's backs, which was interesting.

'Yes, I heard about that.' Uncle Harry leaned forward on his desk. 'And I want to hear more about it at some point. But let's stay on track. So Draco Malfoy identified Julius Bulstrode. Positively?'

'About 90% certain. And combined with the fact that we know he's in the country…'

'Unless he left again by Muggle transport, or has a private route out.'

'I've got people checking that as we speak,' Kennet broke in again. 'But we're pretty bloody certain he's our man, sir—we just need to find him. There are people on the alert all over the country, but he seems to have gone to ground. All we know is that last time he was over here, five years ago, he stayed with his sister, Millicent Bulstrode.'

Harry sighed. 'And the reason we can't just investigate normally, and go and ask her if she knows her brother's whereabouts?'

'Well, we're going to. That's the point,' Kennet said. 'But what we want to do is keep the Auror Office involvement under wraps. That way, it doesn't get out that we're connecting Bulstrode either with this murder or with the League. That's only going to give him a nice, clear warning signal. There are plenty of reasons for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement to be interested in the guy, without getting into murders or dark arts activity.'

'Dodgy money dealings, for one thing,' Persis put in. 'He bought a big, expensive house in the south of France fifteen years ago, and where he got the money's a bit of a mystery. Plus, he took his niece out to the continent with him when her mother died, and there's a question mark over how legal that was. Nobody ever investigated it at the time, because he was her guardian, but he never actually jumped through all the hoops to get permission. It's all a bit late to dig into it now, because the niece is older than I am, but they're easy excuses.'

Uncle Harry was clearly thinking hard.

'So, the idea is that you go in and make enquiries on behalf of your department, Persis? That's fair enough—good plan, I'll go with that. Of course, if he's guilty, even that'll be enough to scare him off, I'd have thought, but you're right—there's no need to advertise exactly where we're up to with the investigation. The bit I'm less sure of is the bit involving Rose. Do we really need to search the house at this point?'

'I don't think we can afford to lose any time, sir,' Kennet said. 'As you say, any sort of enquiries may just scare him deeper into hiding. We need to find out as much as we can as fast as we can, and track him down quickly. And I suspect that Ms Bulstrode won't be too keen to tell us much, to be honest. We're not exactly searching the house—just taking a good look round.'

'So the plan is what—that Rose sneaks in the back way while everyone's distracted, and has a quick snoop?' Uncle Harry looked deeply sceptical. 'I hate to say it, but I think there's a high probability that that isn't going to work. I'd be very surprised if Millicent Bulstrode doesn't have strong wards on every entrance of her house. And I really don't want to end up having to explain what a trainee of my department was doing breaking in through someone's window, thanks.'

Rose grinned, unable to stay silent any longer.

'No, that would be a pretty bad plan,' she agreed. 'Luckily, it's not what we had in mind. See, in our idea, I walk in the front door with Persis. She just won't see me.'

For a moment, Uncle Harry stared at her in puzzlement, then realisation came into his eyes, closely followed by dismay.

'No,' he said, firmly. 'Absolutely not. I do not lend out my cloak.'

'Oh, okay, well if you can't lend it, I suppose that means you'll have to do it yourself then,' Rose said, innocently, knowing that that wasn't what he had in mind at all.

He fixed her with a glare that didn't faze her at all.

'The cloak doesn't make you silent as well as invisible, Rose. You can't rely on walking past someone's nose without being noticed.'

' _You_ can't,' she remarked, knowing that she was pushing her luck, but doing it anyway. He might be only Uncle Harry, but he was also head of the department, and, for the past three years, they'd been careful to maintain professional manners at work. Still, he was unlikely to kick her off the course for being cheeky at this stage.

He looked more taken aback than angry.

'What?'

'What Rose is saying, slightly cryptically,' Kennet said, 'is that she got the highest marks for stealth last year that I've ever seen. Very few people could reliably walk directly under someone's nose without detection, even under an Invisibility Cloak, but I believe that Rose is one of the few. That's the only reason I'm even suggesting this.'

Uncle Harry stared at all three of them, then closed his eyes and sighed, taking a moment before reopening them.

'I can't believe I'm about to agree to this,' he said.

Rose's heart leapt, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. This was the first time she'd been allowed to do anything real, and she hadn't been at all sure that he'd agree to it, even with Natalie Kennet making the case.

'I know it's risky,' Kennet said. 'But we've got a lot riding on this case, sir. These people are killers, and if we can get them, and prove the link to the League, we might be able to hit deeper into their organisation than we ever have before.'

'All right, all right.' Uncle Harry held his hands up. 'You're right. I'm on board. _But_ ,' he added, 'I'm coming with you. Natalie, you and I are going to be right outside the house, and if _anything_ goes even slightly wrong, Rose, you Apparate out. Straight away. Got it?'

He was looking at Rose as he spoke, and she nodded, pulling her face into a more serious expression.

'Got it.'

He sighed again, running his hand through his hair, which was already standing on end as usual.

'Rosie, your parents are going to kill me.'

* * *

The house lay on the edge of Upper Flagley, a little distance away from any other houses, and flanked by trees. It wasn't very big, but it looked like it had been there a very long time, and a huge Virginia creeper, starting to turn red for the autumn, smothered the stone walls and the chimneys; someone had been taking care of it, however, because the creeper around the door and windows was neatly trimmed.

Rose stood so close beside Persis that she was almost touching her. Somewhere behind them, concealed with Disillusionment Charms behind a hedge, were Uncle Harry and Natalie Kennet, but Rose resisted looking over her shoulder, even though the cloak meant that nobody would see if she did.

Her heart was beating fast, but she held herself steady. She had to keep her focus.

Persis had pulled the old-fashioned bell on the door, and a few moments later, it opened, and Rose found herself staring at a woman she had heard of, but had never set eyes on before. The story of how her mother had once turned herself into Millicent Bulstrode's cat was one that Dad had told more than once, with much chuckling, but Millicent Bulstrode didn't look quite the way Rose had imagined her.

She was a large woman in every direction—taller than Rose, who wasn't short herself, and much broader too, but strong, with a firm stance, and neatly styled dark hair, a little grey around the edges. She had large features and dark eyes, and was fairly good-looking, in an imposing sort of way. Her clothes were simple, but looked well-made—a blouse, and plain dark trousers. In all, she looked about as respectable a middle-aged woman as it was possible to be. She stared grimly at Persis.

'Yes?'

'Millicent Bulstrode?' Persis asked, pleasantly. 'I'm Persis McKay—I'm from the Ministry.'

Was it Rose's imagination, or had an expression of wariness crossed Ms Bulstrode's face?

'I wondered if I could come in? There's nothing to worry about—I just have a couple of questions I'd like to ask.'

Millicent Bulstrode didn't move from the doorway.

'The Ministry? Which department of the Ministry?'

'Magical Law Enforcement.' Persis showed her ID. 'But, as I say, there's no need to be concerned.'

'I know there isn't,' Ms Bulstrode broke in. 'Because I haven't broken any laws. I don't know why you're here, and I doubt that I can help you, but I suppose you'd better come in.'

Her words were ungracious, but her tone was polite enough, and any wariness was gone. She just looked a little exasperated, as she stepped back for Persis to enter.

The hallway was narrow, but Rose had not gained 110% in her final stealth exam for nothing. Holding her breath as she passed Ms Bulstrode, she moved silently in Persis's shadow, hidden under Uncle Harry's cloak, her wand in her hand. And then she stood stock still in the shadowy hall as Ms Bulstrode showed Persis into a room to the left.

The door closed behind them, and Rose let out a careful breath. She couldn't let her guard down. They were only the other side of a door, and it was possible that someone else might be in the house. And Rose must not mess this up. If there was anything to find, she intended to find it.

Another door stood ajar opposite the first one, and Rose took the precaution of silencing the hinges before she pushed it very slowly open, took a quick check round it to ensure that the room was empty, and then stepped inside.

It was a kitchen, and it seemed entirely normal. Very neat and clean, with nothing suspicious at all. The stove was a range, but it was closed in; presumably the fire for the Floo Network was in the room opposite. A door at the far side proved to be nothing more than a walk-in larder, so Rose gave up on the kitchen, and made for the stairs at the end of the hall. She moved slowly up them, testing each one with her wand before stepping on it. If anyone was hiding in the house, upstairs was the likeliest place.

There was a large landing at the top of the stairs, with two doors opening off it, and a hallway with two more doors running off to the left. Three bedrooms and a bathroom, Rose guessed. Quite a sizeable house for a woman who lived alone, especially since the Bulstrodes were supposed to have been short of money since the war.

The first bedroom appeared to be Ms Bulstrode's own. The furniture was heavy and old-fashioned. A four-poster bed with green brocade hangings, panelling on the walls, and a vast stand-up wardrobe that reminded Rose of a Muggle story her Gran Granger had given her when she was younger. The bed was made, the dressing table carefully arranged, and the book by the bedside proved to be nothing more incriminating than _To Tame a Dragon_ , Romilda Vane's latest romance novel. Funny, she wouldn't have had Millicent Bulstrode down as a romance reader—but then again, you couldn't judge by appearances. Hugo read Romilda Vane, although he was under the impression that the fact was a secret.

The wardrobe was filled with more plain, practical clothes—and she felt somewhat silly for bothering with it, because why would anything significant be hidden in the wardrobe? She was letting her memories of Gran's story get the better of her. With that train of thought, she dismissed the vague idea that the panelling might be hiding a secret door. It _might_ be, but if it was, she stood very little change of finding it.

The second door off the landing was the bathroom, and there was nothing more enlightening there. Rose began to feel discouraged. Of course, this had always been a possibility, but somehow she had been sure she would find something. Maybe not Julius Bulstrode hiding behind the curtains, but _something_.

She crept up the hall, and opened the third room. A first glance set excitement rising inside her again.

Millicent Bulstrode lived alone, but this room was clearly inhabited. It looked like it might once have been the master bedroom—it was larger than Millicent's own, with a big south-facing window, and an open door through to an en suite bathroom. There was a small fireplace that had, judging by the green ash in the grate, been used fairly recently for Floo travel.

And the bed clothes were rumpled, just pulled roughly up rather than made properly. A suitcase lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, suggesting a visitor, not someone living here permanently. Some clothes were draped over the end of the bed, and a pair of boots stood by the door. Rose frowned as she looked at these.

Not one person. Two people. The boots had to be a man's, in a large size. The coat she found hanging on the back of the door matched it, and there was a man's tie over a chair, but the items lying over the bed were a black dress and a fitted woman's jacket. Rose wasn't into strict gendering of clothes—she frequently wore so-called men's clothes herself. But these couldn't be worn by the same person—the men's items suggested someone taller than Rose, and about twice as wide, while the dress was so tiny she'd never squeeze into it. Which meant that Millicent Bulstrode certainly wouldn't either, so it couldn't be hers.

Did Julius Bulstrode have a wife or girlfriend? Rose knew he had a niece, but why would she be sleeping in the same room? Swiftly, Rose took out the camera she'd brought with her, and snapped pictures of the scene. But, although she searched, careful to replace everything exactly as she'd found it, she found no clues as to the identity of the people staying in the room. There was no paperwork, no bag or wallet, nothing left in pockets.

Nothing but clothes—and there were plenty of those. In fact, Ms Bulstrode's visitors seemed to have come prepared for every possible scenario, from a formal ball to a hike up a mountain. The wardrobe—this one built into the wall—contained dresses and trousers, traditional robes, skirts, heavy coats, maxi-dresses, shorts, walking boots, everything you could imagine, and the most confusing part was that the sizes weren't all the same. Some of the women's clothing would have fitted Rose, while some of it would have been a tight fit on a woman half her size. And the same went for the men's clothes.

It was as if there were about six people living in Millicent Bulstrode's master bedroom.

Rose muttered spells as she searched, looking for anything hidden, anything that might not be what it seemed, but there was nothing. A quick check of the en suite showed only a few bottles of shampoo and other things you'd expect in a bathroom—all of them women's fragrances, but that didn't signify much. Rose knew several men who used women's shampoo, and vice versa. There were traces of recent magic performed in the bedroom; impossible to tell what the spells were, but she took a tracing of the wand pattern. If it was one the Ministry had on record, they'd be able to match it.

That was the best she could hope for, since there was no other identifying information in the room. She found herself wishing that Scorpius Malfoy was there with his evidence-gathering powder. There was no way they could have snuck him in, and he probably wouldn't have had time to do anything useful, but Rose would have given a lot to have seen the recent activity in the room.

It was as she left the room that she spotted a piece of parchment lying on the floor.

It was just a scrap, and when she picked it up, she was disappointed. The only things on it were a set of odd squiggles, and although she hunted around, checking under the furniture, there was no sign of any more of it. Still, it was something, so she pocketed it as she crossed the hall to the final room.

This was as boring as the first few. It was another spare bedroom, and didn't seem to have been used recently, which suggested that if there was more than one person staying here, they must be a couple. But whoever they were, they weren't in the house. She'd cast _Homenum Revelio_ in every room, and nobody was concealed there.

A door downstairs opened, and Persis's voice floated up.

'Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you, Ms Bulstrode. I hope that if you do hear from your brother, you could ask him to get in touch with us. Just a few little questions—I'm sure you understand. Nothing we can't straighten out fairly easily.'

Millicent Bulstrode's voice was a low rumble, and Rose couldn't make out the words. She was pretty certain, though, that whatever Ms Bulstrode might say, the Ministry wouldn't be hearing from Julius any time soon.

She crept silently down the stairs, to where Persis was waiting for her, and delaying by making ridiculous small talk about the size of the grandfather clock in the hall, while Ms Bulstrode stared at her, looking baffled.

Rose lightly touched Persis's elbow to let her know she was there, and a few moments later they were stepping outside. Elation was pulsing through Rose's veins. They had done it. The plan she and Kennet and Persis had cooked up had worked. She might not have single-handedly solved the case, or caught Julius Bulstrode, but she had found some significant clues. And she had completed her first real Auror mission.

Neither of them spoke, and Persis made no sign that she knew Rose was there until they rejoined Harry and Kennet among the trees.

'Well?' Uncle Harry demanded in a low voice.

Rose glanced over her shoulder, then slipped the cloak off.

'Nothing useful from my side,' Persis said. 'Just what you'd expect, really. She hasn't seen her brother. Didn't know he was in the country. Hasn't heard from him for at least six months. I'm honestly not sure whether she was lying—she was pretty hard to read.'

They all looked expectantly at Rose, who nodded.

'Well, she's hiding something,' she said. 'Or rather, someone. Or rather, more than one someone.' And she explained briefly what she had found in the bedroom, then went on. 'I think one of them has to be Julius, but unless we see him coming or going, it could be hard to prove. And that'll be difficult, assuming he's either Apparating or Flooing in and out. Oh, and I picked this up, but I think it must be rubbish.'

She fished the piece of parchment out of her pocket, and held it out to her uncle. He glanced at without much interest at first, then a frown appeared on his face, and he took it and looked more closely.

'Well, that's bizarre,' he muttered, as if speaking to himself.

'What is?' Rose asked, immediately alert. Maybe her find was more exciting than she'd thought.

'If this is what I think it is,' Harry said. 'I'll need to check, but…' He broke off, still staring at the parchment.

' _What?_ ' Rose asked again, entirely forgetting, in her burning curiosity, that he was her boss as well as her uncle.

He looked at her, but his expression was distant and bleak. She knew that expression. It was the one they all wore—her parents' generation—when they talked about things that had happened in the war, and Rose felt hairs on the back of her neck rise.

'I think it's Parseltongue,' Harry said. 'It's very rare to see the written form, but it does exist. There's only a fragment here, of course.'

'Can you read it?' Rose asked, her voice hushed.

'No. I lost that ability a long time ago. But there are people in the world who can. What I want to know is who the hell wrote this, and how did it get tangled up in our case? There's a lot that's bloody weird about this investigation.' He shook his head, returning to the present moment again, and the hint of a smile appeared on his face. 'Anyway, well done, Rose—and you, Persis. That was a neat piece of work.'

* * *

Rose's friends were nearly as excited as her when she told them she'd had her first Auror mission, even though she couldn't tell them any details of what she'd done or why.

'This calls for drinks, lady!' Sapphie insisted. 'No excuses! It's Friday, and you need to relax.'

Rose, still riding high on the success of her mission, didn't argue. It had been a long week and a tense day, and a bit of fun with Sapphie, Helena and Emmy was just what she wanted.

It was bloody typical, though, that some time after the second round of shots, she should run into Dannicus Urquhart.

Ordinarily, after their agreement in the canteen, she would have ignored him. She _ought_ to ignore him, she knew that. But there he was, standing at the bar, tall and curly-haired and well-dressed as always, damn him. As if he had every right to be there, laughing and talking, without even noticing her—with Malfoy too, which somehow annoyed Rose even more, because she hated the fact that Malfoy _knew_.

'What the hell are you doing here?' she demanded, slamming her empty glass onto the bar beside Urquhart, and managing to sound—she thought—not too drunk.

He spun round, looking first startled, then alarmed. Good. He _should_ be alarmed by her.

'It's a public bar, Weasley.' He recovered himself, sounding annoyed now. 'I'm drinking—and so are you, obviously.'

He turned away, leaving Rose scowling. Obviously? What was that meant to mean? In the background, she caught sight of Malfoy's grin at their interaction. Well, fuck _that_.

'I am no more drunk than you,' she declared.

'Rose!' Helena hissed behind her, but Rose ignored her.

Urquhart turned slowly back, his expression a little wary, but she thought she'd hooked him into the argument, and felt a thrill of triumph. Why she'd wanted to hook him, she wasn't quite sure, except that he was just the sort of smug, wise-cracking, smooth-talking guy Rose couldn't stand. Plus, being mean to him eased the sore spot of embarrassment she still had inside her.

'Did I say you were?' he said.

Damn him. Technically, he hadn't said that. Maybe she was drunker than she thought, because she didn't usually let herself get caught out like that.

'You implied it.'

His eyes narrowed. 'You know what, Weasley? Don't tell me what I mean. I don't _care_ if you're drunk or not. I'm drunk too! Is that what you want to hear? Although,' he added, a faint smirk spreading over his face as he looked at her, 'I am handling it better than you right now.'

'Seriously?' she snapped. 'I'm pretty sure I could drink your Pureblood arse under the table, Urquhart. Want to try it?'

And she was confident that she was right too, even if she was possibly marginally further gone than him. She could drink as hard as James, and that was saying something. Anyway, she had seen Urquhart get drunk just the other week, when _the incident_ had occurred, and it had happened fast.

His eyebrows shot up at her challenge.

'I think I'll pass, thanks,' he said.

Rose grinned. She'd expected that.

'Why? Worried about being beaten by a girl? Come on, Urquhart, don't be a sexist wuss.'

'Rose, is that a good idea?' It was Sapphie whispering at her elbow this time, sounding a little worried.

Rose rolled her eyes. Sapphie had some nerve questioning her, given her own track record of drunken mistakes.

'I know what I'm doing, Saph.'

'Don't worry, Jordan,' Urquhart broke in. 'I'm not doing it.'

'Because you're scared,' Rose said, provocatively.

'No. _Because—_ ' Urquhart leaned towards her, one elbow on the bar, as if about to let her in on a secret, '—whatever you say, you're very fucking drunk already, Weasley. Ask me again when it's going to be a fair challenge, yeah?'

And he leaned back, picked up the drink he'd put down on the bar, and wandered off into the crowd. Malfoy cast one thoughtful look at her, then followed.

Rose stared after them, fury rising in her. _Nobody_ got the better of her in an argument like that.

'Fucking condescending dick!' she hissed. Half of her wanted to charge after him and throw her drink in his face.

'Rose, leave it.' Sapphie grabbed her arm. 'It's really not worth it.'

'Yeah, what the hell was that all about anyway?' Emmy asked, her eyes wide, as Rose turned back to them.

Rose was in no mood to talk about it.

'Nothing. Urquhart being a stupid wanker. Nothing new.' Leaning over the bar, she caught the eye of the woman serving. 'Three shots of Dragon Fire, please!' She looked back at her friends, determinedly pushing Dannicus Urquhart and his smug grin out of her mind. 'So, Urquhart doesn't want to play—fine! _I'm_ here to have fun!'

* * *

Felicity Barlow had slipped away from the constant buzz of the common room, and lay on the mossy grass in the warmth of a September sun, writing in her diary.

 _Hogwarts is still horrible_ , she wrote. _The girls in my dorm are mean, except Addy Goyle. I think me and Addy are friends now, but it's hard to tell. She doesn't talk, but I think she's nice and I hope she likes me. The other day some of the others were laughing at her so I told them to stop and Beatrice Harper called me a cry baby. That's because Thalia Moon told everyone when I cried in bed the first night. I hate them all._

 _But then some older kids, in sixth year I think, came and stopped them. One of them is called Izzy, and she knows Addy from before. They were okay, but if we tell on Beatrice and Thalia, it's only going to make them worse. One of the others said he's like me though, his mum and dad are muggles too. He says there are more of us, but not in Slytherin. I don't understand why I'm in Slytherin, because nobody wants me here except Addy. I don't understand anything that stupid hat said._

 _After that Addy showed me how to send a letter by owl, so at least I can write to Mum and Nan._

 _Addy doesn't like books much, but she likes reading comics. She's got a lot of those Marvel ones, even though I don't think most witches and wizards would know what Marvel is. I told her about the films and she seemed really interested, at least I think she did. It's hard to tell with Addy._

 _I think Addy's actually quite clever—when we have to write for homework, she always gets good marks, better than me. But she's no good at the spells part, because those mean speaking out loud. The teachers have started to notice now though, so that's where she is now—talking to Professor Sewell, who is head of Slytherin, about it. At least I think it's probably Professor Sewell doing the talking. I hope they help her._

 _Beatrice Harper says Addy is stupid and that's why she doesn't talk and can't do spells. But I think Beatrice Harper is the stupid one. She also says Addy's dad is in prison. I'm not sure if that's true or not._

 _I miss Mum and Nan and home and all my friends. I wish I was still at school with them all instead of here. I never asked to be a witch and it doesn't seem fair that we don't get any choice._

Felicity stopped and stretched her hand. Her pen was easier to write with than the stupid quills they'd tried to make her use, but she'd been scribbling fast, and her fingers were starting to cramp. Somehow, she was going to have to find a way to hide her diary so that people like Beatrice and Thalia couldn't find it. At the moment, she carried it round with her all the time, to be safe, and slept with it under her pillow. And she tried not to write in it when anyone might see her, but that meant she always had several days to catch up on at once.

At home, she had her own room, and it was only her and Mum in the house anyway. Here, there was never any peace or quiet except when she could find somewhere to hide, like this.

She closed the diary, and leant on it, her arms folded in front of her, and her chin resting on them. In front of her, in the grass, she heard a faint whispering, and she grew very still.

' _Hello,_ ' she murmured.

The wild ones were always shy. For a moment, the whispering stopped, then it came on, and there was a puzzled note to it. The small blunt head with the backwards 'v' on its top pushed out of the heather, inches from her face.

' _It's all right. I won't hurt you,_ ' she told it.

Its tongue flicked out.

' _Ssssnake talker?_ ' it said, doubtfully.

Felicity smiled.

' _Yes, that's me.'_


	6. Iris Pallida

It was Lily's fault that Scorpius ended up going to Roxanne Weasley's fashion show after all.

They met for coffee and a catch up at the beginning of October. He'd been starting to feel a bit worried about her, because he hadn't seen her since August, and it was several weeks since she'd said she wasn't well. It was very unlike Lily to be unsociable for so long, and he could tell as soon as he saw her that something wasn't quite right.

When he asked how she was doing, she said she was fine, with her normal bright smile, but once they'd got their coffee and sat down, he looked carefully at her.

'Are you really okay?' he asked.

Lily sighed, her brightness fading.

'Yes. Mostly. I mean, I am—there's nothing wrong with me. I just… had a bit of a weird thing a while ago.'

'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,' he said quickly. 'I mean, you can, obviously. But it's fine if not.'

She glanced around them. They were in a Muggle place—they had tended to choose those since the time, a couple of years before, when a photographer had snapped a picture of them together and put it in the _Daily Prophet_ , along with a speculative headline about whether there was romance brewing between them.

'I don't mind telling you,' she said. 'So long as you don't tell anyone else, but I know you wouldn't. I really don't want loads of people hearing about it, and asking me all the time.'

He was starting to feel somewhat alarmed, his mind running over various horrible things that could have happened to her.

'What happened?' he asked. 'Are you sure you're all right?'

She nodded. 'I'm fine, honestly. I… Well, it's going to sound weird. Like, unbelievably weird. _I_ don't even really believe it, but it did happen, I swear.' She leaned towards him, her hands wrapped around her mug, and lowered her voice so that it would be inaudible to anyone around them. 'I… I accidentally sort of went back in time.'

For a moment, he stared at her, stunned, trying and failing to make sense of that statement.

'How?' he croaked out at least. 'I mean—what the hell happened?'

She looked miserable.

'I had a Time Turner that I shouldn't really have had, and it was my fault because I totally forgot it was in my bag. And I got hold of it by mistake when I was drunk one night, and…' She shrugged. 'Well, that's how it happened.'

Scorpius shook his head, trying to clear it.

'But… but _what_ happened? I mean, by what you're saying, you didn't just go back a few hours…'

There were hardly any Time Turners left, as far as he knew. And he couldn't imagine how Lily had ended up with one of them. She didn't even have a job, let alone one that would bring her into contact with Time Turners, and they weren't the sort of thing you were just allowed to have for fun.

'No, I went back forty seven years,' she said, so quietly that, for a moment, he genuinely thought he must have misheard her.

'Forty—' he began, then broke off and lowered his voice to match hers. 'Forty seven _years_? How does that even happen? What…?'

He trailed off again, unable to get his head around it at all. He hadn't even thought that was possible, and yet he had to believe her. Lily was too honest to make that sort of thing up, and it surely couldn't be some sort of weird delusion—could it? That almost seemed more likely. He looked hard at her, searching her face, and she seemed to read his thoughts.

'I know it sounds crazy.' She sighed. 'But it did really happen—my family knows about it, and Meri, but not really anyone else. I mean, I wasn't away very long, and I obviously got back all right, but… if it's okay, I'd rather not talk about it anymore. I'm sorry.'

'No, it's fine,' he said at once. 'I get it.'

He was desperately curious, and more questions kept crowding into his mind, but he tried to swallow them down. He wasn't surprised she was upset by it—it would be enough to traumatise anyone. _Forty seven years_. What year would that have been? 1980? The year both their fathers had been born. Fucking hell, that was just _weird_. And it would have been the middle of the first war too. He wondered if she'd actually seen anything of that.

'Anyway,' she said, with an obvious attempt to sound cheerful again. 'I heard you were helping with an Auror case or something—is it to do with one of your inventions? Rose wouldn't tell me.'

He laughed, trying to pull his mind away from time travel.

'It is, but I can't really say much either. You know I've been studying Muggle forensics to see how they do things, though? Well, I'm trying to find ways to use magic to improve on their methods. The interesting bit is that some of their ideas actually go further than most of what we've got at the moment—I suppose they have to be more imaginative, without magic to help.'

'Like mobile phones,' she said. 'Even a Communicator can't do most of the things a phone can.'

'Yeah, exactly. Anyway, that's what I'm trying to do, and people seem interested, which is pretty cool. I just can't say much about it, I'm afraid.'

The number of secrets he was currently keeping was starting to weigh him down. There was the stuff about the murder case, Danny's confession—which was more amusing than anything, especially since he and Weasley both seemed to be tying themselves in knots about it unnecessarily—and now Lily's time travelling, which was the strangest secret of them all.

'Well, that's great—and you'll have to keep me updated on all the bits you're allowed to!' she said, sounding more like herself again. 'Oh, and by the way, Roxy said she'd invited you to her opening show—are you going?'

He was in the middle of taking a mouthful of coffee, and almost choked on it. That had not been something he'd expected to come up in this conversation. When he had—with a bit of an effort—swallowed his drink and recovered, he found that she was grinning at him in an annoying way.

'Whatever you're thinking,' he said, because there was no point pretending he hadn't noticed, not when it was Lily, 'it's wrong.'

Her eyebrows lifted. 'if you say so,' she began, then relented, laughing. 'Okay, okay, I know. I'm only kidding. She said she bumped into you when she was giving out the flyers. Still, you should come.'

'Are _you_ going?' he asked.

'Of course I'm going. Roxy's stuff's really good. Plus, she might be getting me a job.'

'Oh, yeah?' he said. 'At the same shop? What would you be doing?'

'Yep. She's being promoted to Assistant Manager there, because the old Assistant Manager's leaving, which means they're looking for a new person to do Roxy's job in the shop. And now that she's Assistant Manager, she gets to help choose who they hire.'

'Oh, I get it,' he said, laughing at her. 'Using your family connections. Isn't that nepotism or something?'

She flicked her spoon at him, and foam from her latte hit his cheek.

'Fuck off,' she said, grinning. 'I'm only going to be selling clothes. Anyway, I'm good with clothes.'

She said it without any arrogance, as she lifted her cup to drink—it was just a statement of fact, and the fact was undeniable. Scorpius didn't take much notice of clothes, but Lily's outfits always looked good, and when she made an effort and dressed up, she tended to turn heads. His had been one of those heads at one time, although that was weird to think about now. She was just Lily—and he looked at her no differently from how he looked at Hazel or Calypso, or even Danny.

'Yeah you are,' he said honestly. 'Hope you get it. Or is it definite?'

'Not quite definite yet, but I want to turn up to their show. Prove I'm enthusiastic and all that. And support Rox, obviously. It's the first time she's actually sold anything she's designed. So, will you come with me?'

Scorpius grinned. ' _With_ you? Are you asked me on a date again, Potter?'

'Yes, definitely,' she replied, calmly. 'Though half my family'll probably be there, so you'd better keep your hands to yourself. No, but seriously—I just thought it'd be nice, since Roxy asked you, and all. And I haven't really seen much of you recently.'

He pulled a face, dubious.

'Well, I'm not saying it _wouldn't_ be nice, but a fashion show? It's not really my scene.'

'It's not exactly a fashion show—I mean, sure, they'll have an exhibition of the new line and everything, but it's mostly a launch party. Champagne and canapes, that sort of thing.'

That didn't sound like precisely his scene either, thought he didn't say so. It was just the anti-social part of his brain talking to him; he could probably quite enjoy a launch party if he tried.

'Won't it be a bit weird if I come?' he asked instead. 'It'll just start all the gossips up about us again.'

She looked surprised.

'I thought we'd decided we didn't care about that?'

It was true; they had decided that. And he _didn't_ care—he'd got used to it, since it had been happening ever since they'd first got friendly, back when they were still at school. He'd learnt to ignore it, and recently, since any real attraction between them had died away and left only easy friendship, they'd been able to laugh about it. So why did he now feel as though he'd mind if people got the wrong idea?

'Anyway,' she went on, 'We don't have to go _together_. They can't say anything just because we both turn up at the same event. Please come, though! Roxy's really worried about nobody except her family going.'

'Well, there's enough of you to fill the place, isn't there?' Scorpius said, with a grin. 'But okay, I might come. _Might_ ,' he added, as she beamed.

He should have known, at that point, that he wouldn't get away with not going. He never actually made the decision to attend, but somehow, a couple of weeks later, he found himself donning a shirt and a smart jacket—at least, the smartest one he owned, which he thought his parents had bought him about four years ago, and which was slightly tight across the shoulders these days—and making his way to the little white and lilac-fronted shop that squeezed into a corner of a courtyard at the end of Diagon Alley.

It was called Iris Pallida, which, from his hazy knowledge of Latin, he thought meant 'pale iris'. According to the flyer, the owner and manager was called Iris Lamont, so presumably she'd called the shop after herself. Scorpius had never been inside, since it sold only women's clothes, and he already felt uncomfortable, as soon as he stepped in through the door—not so much because it was a women's clothes shop, but because it was filled with immaculately well-dressed people making polite conversation, which reminded him of terrible Pureblood gatherings he'd been forced to attend.

He edged into the room, looking for Lily—or for Roxanne, although she would probably be busy.

'Scorp!'

He spun round at the familiar voice, and hardly had time to blink in surprise at the incoming figure before he was swept into a hard hug by his best friend of more than fifteen years. For a moment, he was so taken aback he couldn't respond, but he managed to hug her back briefly.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, blinking at her as she pulled away.

Hazel laughed. She had a half-empty champagne glass in her hand, which she had somehow managed to avoid spilling.

'That's a nice greeting—and I'd have thought it's more to the point to ask what _you're_ doing here! Not really the place I expected to find you.' She grinned at him. ' _I_ came with my boyfriend, who wanted to support his cousin.'

She waved the champagne glass across the room, and Scorpius looked over, to see James Potter surrounded by quite a crowd of people, including, by the looks of it, the odd journalist. Scorpius rolled his eyes. Potter had signed to play for the English Quidditch team in the spring, turning him suddenly into as big a celebrity—or at least, a more current and exciting celebrity—than his father. Trust him to manage to be the centre of attention, though, even here.

'Looks more like he's stealing her thunder than supporting her,' he remarked. 'Aren't those journalists meant to be writing reviews of this place, or something, not chatting up Quidditch stars?'

'Stop it.' She shoved his arm, gently, although she was laughing. 'Actually, the journalists probably wouldn't be here if he hadn't mentioned the show when they interviewed him after the Bears game yesterday. So yes, he's supporting her. And you haven't answered my question yet. What _are_ you doing here? Don't tell me you suddenly developed an interest in boutique fashion?'

'No.' He grinned sheepishly. 'I'm not sure why I'm here to be honest, except that Roxanne Weasley handed me an invitation the other week, and Lily wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to come. I'm glad you're here, though.' He cast his eyes around the room again. 'I can't see Lily, and I don't think I know anyone else here.'

'Seriously?' She gazed at him, one hand on her hip, her face a mixture of amusement and resigned exasperation. 'Scorpius Malfoy, you're hopeless. _I_ know people here, and I'm not even a witch! I don't believe you don't know anyone—you just don't want to be sociable with them.'

'Not true,' he disagreed, although it was. 'I'm not saying I don't recognise anyone—I just don't know them well enough to go up and start a conversation. And of course you know people. Half your boyfriend's family is here,' he added, spotting Louis Weasley elbowing a journalist out of the way to reach James, and Roxanne's brother, Fred, by the drinks table. And several older members of the Weasley family were around too, people he knew by sight and reputation, although he'd never met most of them.

'Come on, you anti-social grouch,' she said, grabbing his arm. 'There's champagne over here. Let's get you a drink.'

A little while later, they were joined by Potter himself, whose fan group seemed to have dispersed. He looked surprised as his eyes fell on Scorpius.

'Oh,' he said. 'Hey, Malfoy. Didn't know you'd be here.' Faint suspicion followed the surprise across his face. 'Is Lily here?'

It was funny. You could all get five years older, but you still cycled back to the same old bullshit. Most of the time, they managed to be okay with each other. Neutral and civil, at least. But as soon as Lily entered the equation, Potter still couldn't help reacting, even though he knew perfectly well that Scorpius and Lily were friends and only friends.

'I don't know.' Scorpius shrugged. 'I mean, I know she's planning on coming, but I haven't seen her here yet.'

Potter frowned. 'Oh. So what are you doing here then?'

Hazel glared at him, but before Scorpius could reply, another voice cut in.

'I invited him.'

They turned to find Roxanne standing beside them.

'I'm really glad you came!' she went on, looking at Scorpius with that smile that had captivated him in the Leaky Cauldron, then at the others. 'All of you. I kind of wish you hadn't brought those journalists, though, Jamie—what if they write bad reviews?'

'Why would they write bad reviews?' Potter demanded.

'Yeah, James is right,' Hazel said. 'It all looks incredible, Roxy. Including you—is that dress one of your designs? It's amazing! Can I…?'

She stretched out a hand towards the material of Roxanne's dress.

'Yes, go ahead.' Colour rose in Roxanne's cheeks as she beamed at Hazel.

The dress was indeed pretty amazing—it fell in elegant folds and drapes to just past her knees, fitting her perfectly, and the midnight blue material was shot through with stars, like the night sky. Not just diamanté stars stuck on, or a star pattern, but a deep, glimmering mass, as if she was wearing part of the Milky Way. Scorpius was pretty sure it was an effect that you couldn't get without the help of some specialised magic. Her hair, which she usually wore pulled back in a careless bun, was in thick, black braids that gleamed around her head and over her shoulder.

Really, though, the dress was a lot less interesting to look at than the way her face lit up and her eyes sparkled when Hazel complimented her design, as if they also had stars in them. Scorpius found himself—ridiculously—wanting to say something himself to make her glow like that.

He took a large mouthful of champagne instead, before he embarrassed both himself and Roxanne in front of Hazel and Potter. This was stupid. He didn't get crushes on people he hardly knew. _Crush_ —the word itself made him cringe, with all its terrible teenage hormonal connotations. That wasn't what this was.

He pulled his gaze away from Roxanne, and then almost wished he hadn't, because he found that Hazel was staring at him with a very thoughtful expression on her face. Her eyes narrowed into a question as they met his, and he hastily looked away from her too. He wasn't going to answer that question. Certainly not here, and probably not ever.

The rest of the evening was less awkward. Lily turned up, and seemed to have banished her strange, sad mood. She was her friendly, bubbly self, introduced Scorpius to several people he probably ought to have known already, and, after several glasses, he even started to enjoy the general company.

He wasn't really very interested in the fashion show part of the evening, but there was certainly _something_ about Roxanne's designs. Every time he'd met her—except the other week, when she'd been in her work uniform—she'd been dressed in the sort of clothes that seemed chosen so as not to draw attention to herself, and he'd sort of expected her designs to be the same—simple and practical, in dark or neutral colours. However, though he wouldn't say they were overly extravagant, they were very definitely eye-catching. It was an interesting insight into the girl who was probably the quietest of all the Weasleys.

At one point, he was cornered by a dark-haired woman in red lipstick, a good few years older than him, who glanced him over with a bit of a glint in her eye.

'Well, so what brings a Malfoy here, then?' she asked.

Scorpius took in the Quick-Quotes Quill sticking out of the breast pocket of her blouse, and the small pin badge that said 'Press: WWN' in ornate gold letters, and was instantly on his guard. A journalist.

'I'd have thought there were more interesting people here to quiz than me,' he said, trying to edge away.

She laughed. 'Don't worry. I don't have any horrible motives—just my job to be curious. My name's Lowri Pritchard—I do a little radio slot on lifestyle recommendations. Places to eat, things to buy, events that are on in the Wizarding World, that sort of thing. You might have heard it? I'm planning on mentioning this place, that's all. So I'm actually interested in what brought people here.'

'Oh, right,' he said, feeling a little stupid for his sudden paranoia. 'Yeah, I think I have heard it.'

He'd also heard the name Pritchard, but he didn't think that had anything to do with any radio show. He'd heard it recently—but where, and who had mentioned it?

'So, you want to give me a quote?' she went on.

'Oh, um, I don't… I mean…' He floundered, panicking.

But her quill was already out, and she looked at him expectantly.

'Just tell me why you're here, or what you think of it, or how you heard about it, or something.'

Why did everyone keep asking him to explain why he was there?

'Well, er, I think it's…' He waved a hand vaguely. 'You know. It's great. I think it's going to be pretty popular—people like it, don't they? The new things mixed with traditional stuff.' He stopped. What the hell was he doing? He should have just said no, he didn't want to give a quote. 'Please don't use my name, or anything,' he added.

She smiled cheerfully at him. 'No names—no worries! Thanks!'

And she gave him a wave, and was off.

Scorpius put it out of his mind. Nobody would want to hear his stammered, uninteresting comment anyway—not when she could also get glittering endorsements from famous names.

Towards the end of the night, when he'd definitely had more champagne than he probably should, he was inspecting one of Roxanne's designs on a mannequin. This one was some sort of evening dress, he thought, in a cloud of soft grey and dusky pink. Roxanne herself appeared beside him again.

'What do you think?' she asked shyly, then blushed as he turned towards her. 'Sorry. You probably—I mean, there's no reason why you'd even be interested.'

'Well, I was interested enough to come, wasn't I?' he said, looking back at the dress. 'I like it. I mean, I know nothing about dresses or designing them or anything. But it kind of makes me think of the sky. You know, clouds and a sunset.'

He wouldn't have said anything like that if the champagne hadn't relaxed him much more than usual. And he wasn't expecting her delighted reaction, but her smile was so exactly the one he'd imagined bringing to her face earlier, it created an answering warmth in his chest—or maybe that was just the alcohol.

'Oh wow, really? Or did Lily tell you about that?' she said.

'Did Lily tell me about what?' he asked, confused.

'The sky thing. She didn't? Well, then, I'm really glad you picked up on it.'

And she sounded like she was very glad, but he still had no clue what was happening.

'Um, what am I supposed to have picked up on? Is it _meant_ to look like the sky, then?'

She laughed happily. 'Yes. They all are.' She gestured to the one she was wearing, the star-dress. 'Iris didn't want to get into advertising a theme, because she's trying to emphasise that this is ordinary fashion, for people to buy and wear, not pieces of art on a model. And she wanted to show the full sort of range of what we sell. Which I totally get. But I've been designing these for a long time, and I sort of naturally end up doing them on themes. I didn't know if anyone would really notice, though. It's not like having a colour scheme—it's a bit obscure, really. Just a private thing for me.'

Scorpius looked along at some of the other designs, clarity dawning on him. They were all some version of the sky. Winter skies, summer skies, sunsets and dawns, blues and pinks and stormy greys.

'Oh, yeah! I see what you mean. Hey, that's great! And I think these are basically art,' he went on. 'I mean, I don't know anything about art either, but I don't see why it shouldn't be art _and_ be the sort of clothes people buy and wear. Does that make sense?'

She looked at him, and she was still smiling, but there was something else in her face too. A bit of a thoughtful expression, as if she'd suddenly seen something in him she hadn't been expecting. It was slightly disconcerting.

'Yes.' She nodded. 'That's what I think, too. Thank you, Scorpius.'

As he watched her disappear into the crowd, there was no uncertainty in his mind, this time, about the cause of the irrational happiness he was feeling. _Fuck_. This was getting uncomfortably intense, and it was so sudden and unexpected that he had no idea at all how to deal with it.

He looked up, and, across several groups of people, he met Hazel's eyes. Hell, how long had she been watching him? And that knowing smirk on her face didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

Rose was not at Roxy's show, because she was required to do an evening shift at work. Although Iris Pallida was not the sort of place Rose ever shopped in, she'd have rather been at the party, drinking free champagne and making fun of all the fashionable people with Fred, who kept sending her updates by Communicator.

Instead, she was in the office, not even doing exciting work, but fielding incoming communications again. Some sort of big operation was being planned up in Scotland, although she knew frustratingly few details about it.

Nothing, however, appeared to be happening that night. She was due to finish her shift at nine, and at eight thirty was in the middle of making arrangements with Fred to meet some of the others for post-launch drinks in the Leaky—Lily had apparently invited Scorpius Malfoy along for these, which was just _typical_ —when the bell beside her rang, signifying that an owl had just arrived.

It was a weird time for owls. Rose glanced over at where Dennis Creevey, the Senior Auror on duty, was sitting scribbling at a parchment at a desk, and got up. The Auror Office had its own owlery, because so many of their communications were urgent, so Rose opened the small door to it, retrieved the letter, and fed the short-eared owl, which hooted tiredly at her in thanks.

Then she looked at the parchment, and her heart jumped. It was addressed to Natalie Kennet, and was marked 'Urgent Communication.' And the seal was the large, unmistakable mark of the French Ministry of Magic.

'Dennis!' she called, forgetting that she wasn't meant to call him by his first name at work. Dennis Creevey came to all the reunion gatherings of Dumbledore's Army, and she'd known him since she was tiny.

'What's the matter?' He looked up sharply, obviously hearing the urgency in her voice.

She walked over to his desk, and showed him the letter.

'It says it's urgent,' she said. 'And Kennet said if anything important came for her, unless it was internal from another Auror, I should open it.'

Rose hadn't been expecting a missive from the French Ministry, though. They'd already responded to Kennet's enquiry about Julius Bulstrode ages ago, though they'd provided no information that the Auror Office didn't already know.

Dennis Creevey raised his eyebrows at her.

'Well then,' he said, with a slight smile. 'If Kennet's treating you as her assistant on the case, you'd better do as you're told and open it.'

Carefully, trying not to let her fingers tremble with anticipation, Rose broke the seal, and opened it. Her eyes scanned over the contents. The English was formal and slightly stilted, but perfectly clear, and her heart began to race.

She didn't know what this meant, but it was something big. Something weird. It couldn't be possible, and yet there it was, in black ink, on officially headed French Ministry parchment, signed by the head of the French Auror Office.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

It was well past one am, and Scorpius was in bed and almost asleep—and quite drunk, since Lily had convinced him to go to the pub after the show—when the answer occurred to him, and he sat bolt upright. The cat, which was not allowed in his room, let alone on the bed, raised its head from its position on the other pillow, and meowed questioningly at him, then started purring loudly.

He was right. He was sure of it. He'd known the name _Pritchard_ was familiar, and now he remembered why. Dad had mentioned it the other week.

Julius Bulstrode's sister had married a Pritchard.

But he was being stupid, wasn't he? There were several branches of Pritchards. And absolutely no reason to think that very normal-seeming woman he'd met earlier was anything whatsoever to do with Julius Bulstrode or the murder.

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, watching it spin slightly, and with one hand, he absently reached out and scratched the cat's head.

It was nothing. It was coincidence. That was all.

* * *

 **A/N: Just a quick one to say that the story of what happened with Lily and the Time Turner is the story of Choices, in case anyone hasn't read that. It isn't directly related to the plot of this one, but later events will be less confusing if you've read Choices first.**


	7. Cold Winds

Hallowe'en had come and gone. The Drama Club play was cast, and rehearsals well underway, but Issie, as Stage Manager, wasn't really required to do much until after Christmas, other than sit in on meetings. There had been the usual bickering over parts; Eris had complained because almost all the bigger parts were male, and Pádraig had utterly refused to take the part of Leontes, King of Sicily, which Lucy and Tilly had wanted to give him.

'He's got twice the number of lines as anyone else! I can't learn all that and revise for NEWTs,' he said, with a touch of desperation. 'I literally can't, Luce!'

For once, Lucy had to concede the point, because learning lines was always Pádraig's downfall, and trying to force him seemed cruel. That meant that the main part defaulted to Weylin Nott, who, in his quiet way, was an excellent actor. Unfortunately, as he pointed out, he also had NEWTs at the end of the year.

'Yes,' Lucy said to him, in the presence of only the production team, which included Issie. 'But you don't have problems with memorising stuff that way Pádraig does. You always get your lines down without any problem. Anyway,' she went on, 'I reckon you'll be great as Leontes—you're good at regal characters. Pádraig's better at comedy.'

Weylin raised his eyebrows at this, but didn't argue. It was rarely any use arguing with Lucy Weasley.

However, with all that finally settled, Issie was able to put the play aside, and focus on getting her Quidditch team ready. Their first match was against Slytherin, and, although she tried hard to think positive thoughts, she wasn't at all sure of their ability to beat the Slytherin team. The game was to be at the end of the second week in November, which also happened to be Issie's birthday weekend, although she was hardly thinking about that. The match was the important thing.

Exactly a week beforehand, on Saturday afternoon, she called their last full-length practise. The Slytherin team would have the use of the pitch on the Sunday, and the nights were drawing in, so evening practises had to be short. Issie would have enjoyed the practise if she hadn't been so anxious about the game; everyone was flying well, and they were even getting the hang of several new manoeuvres that Issie had, just a few weeks previously, despaired of ever perfecting.

Towards the end of the practise, she was below the goal hoops, correcting—for about the fortieth time—Melissa Truelove's one-handed grip on her broom, when a shout came from the other end of the pitch.

'Hey! A _spy_!'

Issie turned her broom. Lysander was hovering in front of the end stands, pointing into them, although what he was pointing at she couldn't see from that distance. She flew up to him, followed by the rest of the team.

' _Look!_ ' Lysander was puffed up with indignation, his longish hair blown into a wild tangle around his head by flying, and he had somehow acquired a new graze on his cheek, although Issie didn't think he'd been hit by a single Bludger that practise.

She looked, and found herself face to face with a small, scarlet-faced, dark-haired figure in Slytherin robes, clutching what looked like a silver, sparkly notebook. Issie recognised her immediately; it was Felicity Barlowe, Addy's friend.

'I'm not a spy!' Felicity protested, looking a little panicked. 'I swear! I don't… I mean, you… you're just playing that game, right?'

'It's not _just that game_ , it's Quidditch!' Lysander burst out. 'Why else would you be here? You're spying on our practise for Slytherin…'

'Sandy, shut up,' Issie broke in. 'No, seriously. Titus _isn't_ sending first-years to spy on us. It's okay, Felicity, he's just being an idiot.'

'Technically, nobody's really meant to be here when there's a practise on, though,' Robyn pointed out.

Issie hesitated. Robyn was right, but although her tone had been gentle, not accusatory, Felicity's face had fallen, and she looked on the verge of tears, faced with the stares of the entire team.

'I'm sorry,' Felicity whispered. 'I… I didn't know.'

'It's okay,' Issie said firmly, shooting a stern look at the rest of her team. 'You weren't doing any harm.'

Felicity was backing away, though. Issie wanted to stop her, and ask how she and Addy were getting on, but she couldn't do that in front of everyone.

'I, um… I'll just go,' Felicity muttered. 'I… I swear I wasn't spying!' And with one last wide-eyed look at them, she turned and scurried away, her notebook held to her chest.

'Shit.'

Issie frowned after her. She'd wanted to _help_ Addy and Felicity; the last thing she'd been trying to do was scare the kid off. But she supposed all of them gathered there staring at her, with Lysander shouting accusations, was bound to be intimidating.

Lysander himself looked uncertainly at Issie.

'I did honestly _think_ she was spying…' he said.

Issie sighed. 'Of course she wasn't spying. Try to use your brain before you start yelling next time, yeah? Come on, back to the practise!'

However, both her mood and her concentration for the afternoon were ruined.

* * *

Felicity fled back to the school, mortified and miserable. All those people catching her in what she'd thought was a brilliant hiding place! And that stupid, rude boy, calling her a spy—Felicity didn't even know what she was meant to have been spying _on_.

And she'd _liked_ Issie and her friends, the other week. They'd helped her and Addy, and they'd been nice. Felicity wasn't sure how much good it had done, really, but at least it had felt like some people were on their side. And that older boy, the one called Jake, was the first person Felicity had come across who also had Muggle parents. Now he and Issie, and all those older kids, had caught her hiding where she shouldn't have been. She hadn't known she was breaking any rules by being there. It seemed like everything she did at Hogwarts, everything she _was,_ was wrong, wrong, _wrong._

Tears pricked at Felicity's eyes, but she forced them back before she came into the common room. Beatrice and Thalia and the others would only call her a baby again.

She found Addy lying on her bed in the dorm, reading a comic. Felicity climbed onto her own bed, next door to Addy's, and shoved her journal under her pillow. After a moment, Addy looked up.

'Hey,' Felicity said, smiling at her and trying to banish the memory of her humiliation at the Quidditch pitch.

Addy's mouth twitched into a small answering smile.

'How'd the lesson with Professor Sewell go?' Felicity asked.

Since the end of September, Addy had been having extra sessions with their Head of House once or twice a week. It was meant to help her, but Felicity couldn't see much difference in how she got on in normal lessons, and it had only made the others worse when they'd found out. The thing was that Professor Sewell, although Felicity thought he was probably okay really, was stern and a bit scary, and not really the sort of person she thought Addy was ever going to start talking to.

Addy shrugged, and stretched herself out on her bed, pushing the comic away from her. She rested the side of her head on her arms, and looked across at Felicity. Felicity sighed, and looked back. It was hard work getting anywhere with Addy.

'What did you do there?' she asked.

Addy shrugged again.

'Not much,' she muttered, after a pause.

Felicity was encouraged. Sometimes Addy wouldn't speak at all, although those times were getting rarer, at least when they were alone.

'I mean, d'you practise spells or what?'

Addy thought for a moment.

'He asks me questions,' she said at last.

'Oh. What sort of questions?'

Addy shrugged again. 'Dunno. Just questions.'

That had been the wrong sort of thing to ask Addy. Felicity was starting to work out what kind of thing Addy would answer, and what sort of thing would make her slide away from the question. You couldn't be too vague.

'Are they questions about lessons? Or questions about you?'

Addy pulled a doubtful face.

'About me. Kind of.' She paused. 'They want me to go to St Mungo's.'

Felicity stared at her. 'Where's St Mungo's?'

'Dunno.'

Wrong question again.

' _What's_ St Mungo's?' she tried again.

'The hospital.'

'The hospital? But there's nothing wrong with you—is there?'

Addy was just shy, wasn't she? Okay, very, very shy. And a little bit weird. But it wasn't as if she _couldn't_ talk. Did their teachers know that? Had Addy _ever_ spoken in a lesson? Felicity wasn't sure she had.

Addy shrugged once more. 'They can't make me go there unless my mum says it's okay. So they're sending her a letter.'

Felicity nodded slowly. That made sense. She wondered what sort of person Addy's mum was, though. Would she _give_ permission? Addy didn't talk about her life at home.

'D'you want to go to St Mungo's?'

Addy shook her head vehemently.

'Did you tell them that?'

There was no response, and Felicity knew what that meant.

'Oh, Ads. Why not?'

And that was the wrong sort of question too, but she couldn't help it. Addy could avoid all this if she'd only _talk_ —just like she was talking to Felicity now. It seemed so simple, and yet Felicity knew that it somehow wasn't simple for Addy. She just didn't understand why.

Addy turned her head and rested her forehead on her arms instead of her cheek, so Felicity couldn't see her face any more. For a moment she was silent, and Felicity wondered if that was all she'd get for now.

'I can't,' a muffled voice said at last.

Felicity waited, but there was no more. She sighed, and leaned back on her bed. That was that, she supposed. If Addy couldn't, then she couldn't.

'Maybe your mum won't let them,' she said, hopefully.

Addy's shoulders rose and fell in another shrug. There was another silence, then she lifted her head again, and looked at Felicity.

'My dad's in prison,' she said.

Felicity's breath caught. Beatrice had said that, but she'd hardly believed it. _Prison_. Felicity had never known anyone who had been to prison. What were you meant to say to that sort of thing? Addy sounded so matter-of-fact, like she didn't really care, but you just couldn't _tell_ with her. Felicity had a feeling that Addy might be caring a whole lot about all sorts of things, inside.

'Yeah,' she said quietly in the end. 'Beatrice said that. But I didn't know if it was true.'

Addy nodded. 'They're letting him out on the fifteenth of December,' she said, precisely, her voice quiet.

'Oh. Well… well… is that… good?' Felicity ventured slowly.

Addy shrugged again, her default gesture.

'I dunno. I was little when he went to prison.' She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms up to the ceiling, spreading her fingers out, palm upwards, and inspecting her hands. 'Sometimes he used to get drunk and hit my mum.'

For a second, Felicity couldn't breathe, and she stared in horror at Addy. How could she say things like that in such a flat, ordinary voice? Felicity's own dad had left before she was born, and she'd never known him, but this was worse than that. So much worse.

'Oh, _Addy_. That… that's _horrible_. Is that why he went to prison?' she whispered.

Addy shook her head. 'No.'

'What _did_ he go to prison for?' she couldn't help asking.

Addy's arms flopped down again. 'Dunno.'

Felicity hugged her knees, trying to get her head around the awfulness of it all. She was stupid for being so miserable over her own problems. She was going home at Christmas, home to lovely Mum and Nan. What was Addy going home to? It made Felicity want to cry all over again, but for Addy not for herself.

She was still thinking about it when they went for dinner that evening. Addy had somehow got ink all over her skirt, and had just shaken her head when Felicity had tentatively suggested she ought to change, so Beatrice and Thalia, with Josephine Dimitar, were giggling at Addy from behind them. Felicity couldn't tell if Addy had noticed. Her mind was running over possibilities. Maybe she could ask Mum if Addy could come and stay with them at Christmas, instead of going home, and then she wouldn't have to see her dad. But Addy's mum wasn't likely to say yes to that, was she?

'Hey!'

She heard the voice shouting, but there were crowds of other students all heading in the same direction, and she didn't imagine it had anything to do with her.

'Hey, Sparkly Notebook Girl!'

The shouting figure slid to a halt directly in front of her, and she had to stop quickly so she didn't bump into him. Addy stopped too, and so did the others, to watch. Felicity blinked at the figure, and her heart sank. It was the boy from before. He was a bit cleaner than he had been on the Quidditch pitch, but his shirt was still untucked, and his red and gold tie was tied around his head, instead of his neck.

Her face burning, Felicity crossed her arms in front of her.

'What?'

He frowned, looking almost worried.

'I came to say I'm sorry. For before. I was wrong, because you weren't spying. But I thought you were. So I yelled at you, and I'm really sorry.' He smiled hopefully at her, waiting for a response.

Felicity's head reeled. What was happening right now? Stupid, rude boys didn't, in her experience, apologise for being stupid and rude. Only apparently this one did. She cast a sidelong glance at Beatrice, Thalia and Josephine, and a tiny bit of smugness crept into her surprise. They didn't look pleased at all. They'd probably thought he was going to make fun of her for something.

She pulled herself together.

'It's okay,' she said distantly, her arms still crossed, hoping she looked suitably disdainful.

His face lit up.

'Yeah? So we're cool?' He thrust a hand towards her. 'I'm Lysander Scamander, by the way.'

She blinked at his hand, then at him. Was it a trick? But his smile seemed very genuine. Cautiously, she put her hand in his.

'Um. Hi.'

He took it, shook it hard a couple of times, then released her, looking expectant. Felicity had no idea what he was waiting for, so she just stared back at him.

'Well,' he said at last, 'I can keep calling you Sparkly Notebook Girl if you want, but I doubt if that's your name.'

' _Oh._ ' Her cheeks grew even hotter. 'Um. Felicity. My name's Felicity.'

He beamed at her.

'Great! That's a nice name. See you around, Felicity.'

Before she could reply, he had turned and raced off down the corridor.

'What was _that_?'

Felicity looked around, and found that, for once, Thalia Moon looked just dumbfounded, not malicious. Beatrice was scowling beside her. And Felicity had no more idea what that had been than they did, but she shrugged a shoulder, as if that kind of thing happened to her every day.

'I expect he felt sorry for her,' Beatrice Harper said. 'Because she's got no friends except the Goblin.'

Thalia and Josephine giggled along with Beatrice, but Felicity felt that somehow none of their hearts were in it quite as much as usual.

* * *

The day of the first Quidditch match of the year came, cold, windy, and bright.

Issie stared around at her little team, standing in the changing rooms. It was traditional for the captain to give a pep talk, and she'd thought long and hard about what to say, because she was no good at that sort of thing. Ruby was looking slightly sick with nerves. Sam scowled at the floor, while Lysander was up on the bench, hanging off the hooks. He always bounced around, but today he was thrumming with nervous energy.

'Okay, guys,' she said. 'We've got this. We might not have been playing together long, but we've been working really hard.' She paused. It didn't sound very inspiring now she was saying it, and she couldn't remember what else she'd planned anyway. Well, screw her plan. She took a deep breath, and started again. 'Look, Titus Hart thinks we're going to be a pushover, because we've got inexperienced players. I'm pretty sure the rest of the school thinks the same. What they don't get is that there are some things you can't beat: Gryffindor spirit, and pure skill. We've got so much of those that the Slytherins aren't going to know what's hit them. So let's get out there, and prove them wrong. Okay?'

She smiled round. It might not have been the best speech ever, but Jake let out a cheer that Robyn and Sam joined in with, and Lysander leapt down from the bench with a whoop.

'Let's kick them in the balls!' he shouted.

For a moment, there was a startled silence, then Jake cracked up, and the rest of the team joined him.

'Well, please don't literally do that,' Issie said, when she'd stopped laughing. 'But good attitude. Let's go!'

Her team was playing well, she thought, a short time later. One of the advantages of playing Seeker as captain was that you could watch most of the action. She had to admit that their Chasers weren't quite up to the lightning speed of the Slytherin three, who had all played on the team last year too. Titus had a new Beater alongside him as well, though, and Sam and Jake were at least a match for them, Issie noted with satisfaction, as Chaser Rhys Pritchard was forced to miss his catch by a Bludger hit by Sam. And Melissa Truelove was on fire—her grip was still way off, but Issie had to admit that it didn't seem to affect how well she threw herself in front of the hoops to keep out shots.

Slowly, however, Slytherin crept ahead. Issie tried not to watch the scoreboard, but she couldn't help being aware of it. Gryffindor were battling valiantly; all three Chasers had scored brilliant goals. But Slytherin had the edge. Issie gritted her teeth. Titus would be unbearable if they won, and so would Eris, even though she didn't play Quidditch.

60-40.

70-40.

Lysander and Robyn scored once each in quick succession, bringing it up to 70-60. For a brief time, Issie had hopes of equalising, and shouted urgent instructions at her Chasers and Beaters. But although first Robyn and then Ruby had a shot at goal, the Slytherin Keeper, Quinn, kept them both out. Then Pritchard scored, Melissa just getting her fingertips to the Quaffle, but unable to stop it.

Soon it was 90-60, and Issie thought that both Ruby and Lysander, the two youngest and least experienced Gryffindor players, were tiring.

And then she saw the Snitch.

It was miles away, at the other side of the pitch; she just caught a glimpse of the sun gleaming off it. The Slytherin Seeker, Pia Stimpson, was much closer to it than she was, but obviously hadn't spotted it. Issie gritted her teeth, thinking hard, and willing it not to disappear again. Jake was in the thick of the action, covering Robyn as she flew with the Quaffle, but Sam was nearby. Issie put on a spurt of speed, and drew alongside her.

'Sam!' she hissed urgently. 'Cover Stimpson!'

Sam looked startled for a moment, then nodded silently, and flew off towards Stimpson. It might be her first real match, but they'd prepared for this in practise. Issie had to trust her.

She moved that way herself, carefully keeping her focus away from where she knew the Snitch was, only glancing every now and then to be sure it was still there. _Don't disappear, don't disappear,_ she willed it. She didn't want to draw attention to what she was doing, but she couldn't afford to fly too slowly. Distantly, she heard a roar go up, and a whistle blew. Had Robyn scored, or had she been fouled? No time to find out.

Issie took advantage of the distraction, and dived towards the Snitch.

Almost instantly, the note of the uproar changed. Issie put on all the speed she could. No time to check that Sam was in position. No time to check what Stimpson was doing. From the corner of her eyes, she kept a look out for flying Bludgers, but even that was less important. _Catch the Snitch_. It was their only chance.

And there was Stimpson, closer to the Snitch than Issie. She'd seen it at last. Issie was the faster flyer of the two of them, she knew that from last year, but she had more ground to cover. Then, right on cue, Sam made her move. A Bludger came slamming out of nowhere, straight at Stimpson. Stimpson had to swerve and twist in mid-air to avoid it, and Issie flattened herself to her broom and went straight for the Snitch.

Yes, there it was. It zipped off, but Issie had played Seeker too long to miss it. Her fingers closed around it, and she had it, thrusting her hand triumphantly into the air as the Gryffindor stands erupted.

They'd done it. They'd won. Last year was wiped out, and a new page had begun.

* * *

'What is it?' Scorpius stared up at the side of the house by the sea, an easterly wind whipping against his face.

The house was home to Donnie Begbie, ex-Chaser and current Coach of the Montrose Magpies. Scorpius had once seen him play, but he was an Appleby Arrows supporter, and couldn't bring to mind much information about Begbie, other than the fact that he had a reputation for using press conferences to talk about political issues. Generally, his ideas seemed to be ones Scorpius would agree with; he was outspoken against prejudice.

But now someone had graffitied Begbie's house, which was apparently such a big deal that the Aurors were involved in it, and wanted Scorpius, once again, to find out who had done it.

'It's red paint,' the Auror in charge told him. 'Enchanted. It's going to be a horrible job for him to get it off.'

That didn't really answer his question. The shape—symbol, whatever you wanted to call it—was a huge red M in a circle, and it covered most of the front wall of the house. Scorpius was glad it was paint, because it looked horribly like the same colour as fresh blood, but knowing that didn't help him understand what it meant, or why a piece of graffiti was being taken so seriously. It did also look as though there was at least one broken window, but even so. Kennet had already told him that nobody had got past Begbie's Intruder Wards, so it was just property damage, wasn't it?

Scorpius looked at the Auror who had spoken, wondering whether he dared to ask any more. He didn't entirely know who she was, but she was clearly very senior. Some years older than Kennet, he thought, although probably not as old as the lines on her face seemed to suggest. A scar of some kind was just visible under her chin, above the scarf she was wearing. She seemed somewhat suspicious of his presence, and hadn't been very forthcoming.

Kennet had come with him, but Persis had not—this was a separate case from the murder, and it seemed to be only Aurors working on it. He sort of wished Persis was there, because Aurors, as a group, were intimidating. It was a combination of the way they looked so grimly serious about everything, the way they refused to give him any solid information, and the fact that he was pretty sure they all carried various very powerful magical objects and weapons under those brown robes.

'Is it, um, dark magic?' he ventured.

'Not in itself.' The woman shot him a sharp glance, then seemed to make up her mind. 'You might as well know, though. The press is already here, and if we don't give a statement, Begbie will. He's too much of a public figure to keep it quiet. We've seen this symbol before. The League uses it—their official logo, back when they were pretending to care about official things, was a red L in a circle, the same basic design as this. They've used this one with the M a couple of times before, on both occasions painted on Muggle buildings, and combined with attacks Muggles inside the building. You probably heard about those—nobody was badly hurt, but it was nasty. Luckily, we managed to arrest a couple of the people responsible. But there you have it. The League's signature, if you like.'

The League again. That explained all the Aurors here, and Kennet's interest.

'But Donnie Begbie isn't a Muggle,' he said, slowly.

'No. But he did say some angry things the other week about the type of people who victimise Muggles, and now he's had his windows smashed, and this painted on his house. And Muggleborn starts with M as well. As does a more unpleasant word, which we know the League like to use.'

He stared again at the blood-red symbol, feeling chilled. The wind felt somehow colder and more unpleasant than before, as if it was blowing something nasty in off the North Sea. But it wasn't coming from the sea—it was already here, in the form of people filled with hate and anger. Some of those were people Scorpius had known all his life, and, but for a few chance events and circumstances, he could have been one of them.

Could he, though? The whole thing was so vile, and Scorpius couldn't imagine sharing those feelings. Could different circumstances really have turned him into a completely different sort of person? He didn't want to believe it. _Didn't_ really believe it. But his family had been that type of person. Maybe not all of them, but a lot of them, going back generation after generation. His father had joined the Death Eaters at sixteen, something he had never talked to Scorpius about, never mentioned at all, as if he had blocked it all out. Was Scorpius really so fundamentally different from other members of his family, or was it just chance and luck and circumstance?

There was no answer to that sort of question, but he went about the now-familiar routine at the scene of the crime with a heavy heart, and a sense of foreboding.


	8. Twice is Two Mistakes

The Gryffindor common room was noisier that afternoon than Issie had ever heard it. It was as if every celebration they'd been denied the previous year had been saved up, and was being had simultaneously.

As she came through the Portrait Hole, Jake, who had managed to get up to the castle ahead of her, grabbed her into a flying hug, and swung her round, to general whoops all around them. He was still in his Quidditch gear and damp with sweat, but so was she, and she didn't care.

'You did it!' he yelled. 'We did it! We _won!_ Happy birthday!'

'My birthday's not 'til tomorrow, you twat!' Issie shrieked in his ear, though she was grinning so widely she thought her face might split.

He set her down, laughing. 'Tomorrow's only seven hours away! And we're still going to be celebrating in seven hours, so that makes this already your birthday party!'

* * *

Two parties took place that night, one in the Gryffindor common room, and one somewhere in West London.

Rose had attempted to leave all thoughts of work back at the office. It was Lily's birthday, and Lily was, at long last, starting to look and act a bit more like her usual self after what had happened in the summer. Rose was glad of that, and had been all prepared to help her cousin celebrate her twentieth in the usual style.

They'd started out at James's flat, as Lily still lived with her parents, but had soon spilled out into the bars, so that the party had grown and spread, and Rose was no longer sure who was technically with them and who wasn't. Lily seemed to have at least a passing acquaintance with just about everyone in the Wizarding World under the age of thirty.

But the case kept pushing itself into Rose's mind.

There was still no explanation for the news that had come from the French Ministry. The discovery of a body in Julius Bulstrode's house in France, the body of a middle-aged man of Bulstrode's build, wearing Bulstrode's clothes, but so decomposed that proper identification was impossible. The house had been found empty and abandoned, and must have been so for months before the authorities got there. The French Ministry were convinced the body was that of Julius Bulstrode, and were now hunting for his vanished niece as the prime suspect in his death. But it _couldn't_ be him. The body had been there since before the Venomous Tentacular murder. Possibly since before Julius Bulstrode even arrived in England, though that was more doubtful.

The trouble was that all their evidence that Bulstrode was responsible for the Tentacular murder lay in Scorpius Malfoy's experimental, unproven, magical invention. Kennet believed it was genuine, and so did Persis McKay, but it wasn't _proof._ And until they could provide an alternative theory about whose body had been found in Julius Bulstrode's house, and where his niece might be, the French authorities were going to remain sure that they'd got it right.

'Hey, Weasley. How about that contest then? Or are you too drunk again?'

Rose was wrenched out of her thoughts, her head jerking up to find Urquhart standing beside her, smirking at her. _Fucking hell_.

'Why are you always where I am?' she demanded, not bothering to hide the dislike in her gaze. 'What happened to never talking to each other again?'

'You threw that rule out of the window when you swore you could, what was it, _drink my Pureblood arse under the table_. So how about it, Weasley? You going to follow through?'

She stared at him for a second. At the gleam in his brown eyes—she couldn't see the colour in the dim bar light, but she knew they were brown, and she hated that she knew that—and the amused curl of his lips. She was no longer so completely confident in her abilities now that she wasn't quite so drunk as she had been that other time. And she hadn't been intending to drink much tonight at all. But she _had_ issued the challenge.

'Okay, fine.' In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. 'I'll get the first round. Shots of Firewhisky do you? Or would you rather start softer?'

At least if she got hammered, she could stop thinking about unsolvable mysteries for a while. And hopefully wipe that grin off his face in the process.

* * *

Issie woke with a dry mouth and a pounding headache, to the sound of a loud argument happening in her dormitory.

' _GET OUT!'_ Sam's voice bellowed. 'What are you _doing_ here?! No, don't answer! That's so wrong! Just _GO!_ '

'All right, all right, I'm going!' Jake's voice answered, sounding annoyed, though not as angry as Sam.

Wait, _Jake's_ voice?

Issie sat up, pushed her curtains aside, and peered out. Alice's head appeared from the bed beside hers, blinking blearily, having clearly also just woken up.

Sam stood in the middle of the room in her pyjamas, her hair tousled, glowering at Jake who was edging towards the door, minus his shirt, although mercifully wearing trousers.

'You can't have sex in our fucking _dormitory!_ ' Sam continued, still at top volume. 'We sleep here too! That's _gross_!'

'We weren't having sex!' Tiggi burst out, yanking her curtains fully open and glaring at Sam, though her face was nearly the same colour as the curtains. 'Merlin, Sam! Look, I'm fully dressed, for fuck's sake!'

She pulled the covers off herself, and she was indeed still in the leggings and top she'd been wearing the night before.

' _He's_ not,' Sam pointed out. 'He's half naked!'

'But I don't have sex with the half that's naked,' Jake said, with a grin that disappeared as both of them scowled at him. 'But seriously, Sam. We weren't actually doing anything. We just fell asleep.'

Issie, despite her sore head, was holding back helpless laughter. She looked at Alice, whose hand was pressed against her mouth, and it was the undoing of both of them. They collapsed into giggles, and the others looked around, apparently noticing them for the first time.

'Hey, it's Issie! Happy birthday, Is!' Jake said, brightening up. 'Right, that means no more arguing—not on Issie's seventeenth!'

'I'm not arguing,' Sam said, sounding slightly less annoyed. 'I'm just _saying_ …'

'Well, no saying,' Jake broke in, hastily. 'No saying, and no discussing—of _anything_ —on Issie's birthday. Subject over!'

'What, no discussing _anything?'_ Alice said, still giggling.

'Exactly! Ssh!' he told her. 'Anyway, time to get up. Come on, girls, rise and shine—breakfast time! I'm going to get a t-shirt.'

'And some clean underwear, I hope,' Issie remarked.

He flipped her off, and darted out of the room.

' _Merlin_ , Sam,' Tiggi said, when the door had closed behind him, folding her arms over her chest.

'Look, no way are you going to treat me like I'm in the wrong here!' Sam protested. 'Issie, Alice, back me up! You can't bring a boy back to sleep in a communal bedroom! I mean, okay, I believe you, you weren't having sex. But don't tell me you weren't doing _anything_! Plus, we didn't know he was here. I could have walked out in my underwear.'

'Um. Yeah, I'm with Sam,' Issie decided. 'You can't do that. Not without telling us he's here, anyway.'

She wasn't sure she really cared if Jake saw her in her underwear, but that was just because he was _Jake_ , and she thought of him much as she thought of Alice. That wouldn't go for all boys, and anyway, whatever he and Tiggi had or hadn't been doing, sleeping two beds away from it was uncomfortable.

Tiggi glowered at them.

'Just because none of you has a boyfriend! You don't get it,' she said. 'There's nowhere private in this school, in case you hadn't noticed.'

'So keep it in your pants,' Sam huffed, still grumpy, as she headed for the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her.

Tiggi bit her lip, suddenly looking less defensive and more miserable. It was an unusual look on her—she was usually so poised and calm—and Issie felt sorry for her, despite the typical Tiggi-ish dig about none of the rest of them having boyfriends. After all, they'd all been drunk the night before, and she very much doubted that either Jake or Tiggi had intended to get caught with him still here in the morning.

'Sorry, Issie,' Tiggi said. 'I didn't mean to spoil your birthday morning.'

'You didn't.' Issie swung her legs out of bed, and groaned. 'This headache spoiled it.'

She seemed to remember that she and Alice had, between them, polished off the entirety of a large bottle of Hot Cauldron—a lethal concoction that tasted like pumpkin juice, which was what made it so dangerous. No wonder she felt rough.

'I get what you mean, though, Tiggi,' Alice said, then went pink as Issie looked at her in surprise. 'I mean, not that it's relevant to _me_. But it's true—there's nowhere to go where you know you won't find any people.'

Tiggi also looked surprised, but gave Alice a flash of her usual smile.

'Well, thanks, Alice. I mean, I wouldn't have _let_ him sleep here, if I'd thought about it. It just happened! There was no need for Sam to go off the deep end, though. We were only sleeping, I swear.'

'Yeah, it's okay, we believe you,' Issie said. She supposed Alice was right—although so was Sam. 'Maybe we need to set up some dorm rules that _do_ give you some privacy, or something,' she suggested. 'Then you won't need to try and sneak around, and we don't need to wake up to the sight of Jake topless in the mornings, because that's something I definitely don't need on top of a hangover.'

She came down to breakfast with Alice, to find Lucy, Tilly, and Max Bailley, Lucy's fellow seventh-year Hufflepuff, sitting at the Gryffindor table with Artemis. Pádraig was nowhere to be seen, which didn't surprise Issie, considering the state he'd been in the night before. She'd last seen him leaning a dangerously long way out of a window while he shared a spliff with Tansy Kent.

'Happy birthday!' Lucy scrambled up, and flung her arms around Issie.

'Hey. Thanks.' Issie winced, wishing that she could stop feeling nauseous.

'This is from all of us,' Tilly said, pushing a beautifully wrapped present, tied up in red paper with a gold bow, across the table at Issie.

'Including Pádraig, even though I think he might be dead.' Artemis added, looking a bit worse for wear herself as she hugged a cup of tea to her chest.

'Oh, wow – thanks, guys!'

Issie and Alice both sat down, and Issie poured herself coffee before attending to the present again, which she suspected had been wrapped by Tilly, judging by the artistry of it.

Jake had yet to appear again, after exiting the girls' dorm, but she'd already opened Alice's gift, a signed copy of _Flying with Eagles_ , the recently-published memoir of Catriona McCormack, one of Issie's Quidditch heroes. She hadn't really been expecting anything much from her other friends.

'Go on, open it!' Lucy urged her. 'It's Pádraig's own fault he's not here.'

Issie untied the bow, and pulled off the paper, to reveal a soft black hoodie. She unfolded it, held it up and choked with laughter, then groaned as it set her head throbbing again.

'Holy shit, it's amazing,' she said. 'Thank you.'

The hoodie had red writing across the front, which read:

 _Stage Manager: 90% of the work and no applause._

 _Seeker: 10% of the work and all the applause._

 _Life balances out._

'Tilly came up with it,' Lucy said, with a grin. 'We thought it was pretty good, so we got it printed.'

'Well, the second part seems about right, but I'm not buying that she does _90%_ of the work in our shows,' a teasing voice said behind them.

Issie twisted around, and the three Slytherin seventh-years of the drama club were standing there. Weylin, who had spoken, smiled at her.

'Happy birthday, Issie.

Issie smiled back. 'Thanks.'

'Hey, guys! Come and sit down!' Alice offered, shuffling over, and smiling more brightly than Issie thought she had a right to, given that they'd both drunk the same amount.

Weylin sat down on the bench beside Alice, sitting sideways with his long legs on the outside of the bench, and leaning on the table. Oscar perched beside Max, and inspected the hoodie.

'Nice,' he said. 'So, what are you doing today, Issie? You've got a day pass out of school, haven't you?'

'Yeah.' She nodded. 'I'm going out somewhere with my mum and dad, but I don't know what we're doing—they wouldn't tell me.'

Although she answered Oscar, she was looking warily at the third member of their trio, who was still standing beside them, his hands shoved into his pockets. He narrowed his eyes at her.

'Sheer fucking luck,' he said.

'Pure fucking skill,' she retorted.

Titus's face cracked into a reluctant grin.

'Well, good game, Malfoy. And happy birthday. How hungover are you?'

Issie rubbed her eyes with a groan.

' _So_ hungover. And my dad's going to be here to get me in, like, an hour.'

Titus laughed. 'Good thing I got you a present then.'

He pulled one hand out of his pocket, and in it was a small glass vial. Issie looked at it suspiciously.

'What is it?'

'Hangover Potion. Secret recipe, but it works.'

It did work, and Issie felt considerably better by the time she headed for Professor Longbottom's office, where her dad was Flooing to pick her up.

She left the others still lounging around the breakfast table, since it was Sunday, and there was no hurry to do anything. Jake and the other Gryffindors had come down, although Pádraig was apparently still asleep, and Lucy was just saying, as Issie departed, that he'd better be up in time for the rehearsal that afternoon.

'Hey!' a voice called from behind her, as she walked down a corridor.

Issie paused, and swung around. Eris was behind her—not exactly hurrying, because Eris rarely appeared to hurry, but moving quite fast towards her. She slowed as she approached Issie, and stopped.

'Sorry. I missed you at breakfast, so I wanted to say happy birthday,' Eris said.

Her words and tone were casual, but almost _too_ casual. After four years of watching Eris on the stage, and knowing her off it, Issie thought she was starting to recognise the subtle signs of when Eris was performing and when she was not. Why she would be putting on an act right now, Issie had no idea, but then you could never quite predict Eris. Sometimes she just seemed to do it for fun.

Then again, it was weird that she'd apparently _missed_ Issie at breakfast, when Issie had been exactly where she always was, at the Gryffindor table, with most of their mutual friends.

'Oh, um. Well, thanks,' she said.

'I got you something,' Eris went on, still with that airily casual tone.

She held out a small package, and Issie took it slowly. Well, that maybe explained it. Eris didn't like to show she cared. In fact, Issie hadn't really known she _did_ care to the extent of buying her a birthday present. In fact…

'That's really nice of you, thank you,' Issie said. 'But… but I didn't get you anything. I'm sorry…'

Eris's birthday had already passed, in September. Issie had signed the card they'd all passed around, and put in a Galleon for the box of chocolates the whole drama club had bought for their leading lady, but it hadn't occurred to her to get Eris anything more personal. They weren't at that level of friendship—were they?

'I know you didn't.' Eris shrugged. 'I don't care about that. I didn't get you it because I thought I needed to get you something. I got you it because I was in a shop and saw it, and I thought you'd like it. Don't look so worried,' she added. 'I didn't spend my family fortune on it.'

It was the thought, not the money, that was making Issie feel guilty. Though she had to admit that she was also somewhat touched.

'Well, thank you,' she said again. 'You didn't have to…'

'I _know_ I didn't have to,' Eris said, with an exaggerated air of great patience. 'That's what I was just saying. But I did. So maybe open it, or something?'

Issie smiled. That was Eris sounding more like herself.

She unwrapped the small parcel, which had a second layer of paper inside. From under that, something heavy-ish and metallic fell out into Issie's hand. She turned it over, and found that it was a circular green pin, about the width of her palm—dark green, with a gold talon in the middle, and the date _1986_ inscribed on it. A Holyhead Harpies badge, in a genuine vintage design, with the date of the Harpies' most famous recent League win.

'I think it's original,' Eris said. 'It's not in totally perfect condition—the design's a bit scratched at one edge. But I saw it, and you're the only one of my friends who supports the Harpies, so.'

'Eris, it's amazing, and that's so nice of you!'

Impulsively, Issie stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Eris, and squeezed. The only times they had hugged before had been jubilant group hugs after performances, and Eris stiffened, then hugged her back, a little awkwardly.

'All right, don't overreact,' Eris said after a moment, pulling back.

'Just say _you're welcome_ , and don't ruin it,' Issie told her, with a grin. 'Where did you get it, anyway?'

'Agatha Fontaine's.' Eris looked at Issie cautiously, as if waiting for a reaction. 'If you don't mind a present from Knockturn Alley.'

Issie raised her eyebrows. 'I'm not totally sure who you think I am, but my grandfather used to have an _account_ with Borgin and Burke's.' And possibly still did, but Issie had never enquired too closely into that.

Eris laughed, looking more relaxed. 'Yeah, but you're the good little Gryffindor of the family, aren't you?'

'Oh, shut up. Anyway, Agatha Fontaine's Emporium's pretty harmless, as places on Knockturn Alley go,' Issie said, with a slightly overdone shrug.

She wasn't exactly sure why, but she didn't want Eris thinking she'd never set foot in somewhere like Knockturn Alley. Actually, she'd only been there once in her life, but she did know that Agatha Fontaine's, a little antique and vintage shop full of knick-knacks, was one of the more normal and less dark-art-orientated shops there.

'Yeah, well. Sycorax is living above it, so I had a poke around.'

Issie gave Eris's face a quick glance, but it gave nothing away.

'I didn't know Sycorax was living there,' she said, then wished she hadn't said anything, even though her words had been pretty neutral. So much for acting like she was cool with Knockturn Alley and everything in it, if she then went and judged Eris's sister for living there.

However, Eris only shrugged.

'Yeah, she's working at the Hopping Pot,' she said, naming a little café with a somewhat seedy reputation.

Issie did her best not to show that she was startled. Sycorax Montague _had_ seemed a little bit of a mess during her last couple of years at school, but the Montagues were well-off, and prided themselves on their respectability, despite their short-lived associated with the League. She couldn't imagine Eris's parents were very pleased with Sycorax working as a waitress, or whatever she was doing.

'Is she still going out with Searle Nott?' she said, cautiously.

Eris let out a short laugh that didn't sound very amused. ' _Going out_ ,' she said, making air quotes. 'That's one way of putting it. He turns up at hers, they shag, he complains he's got no money so she gives him most of hers, and then he fucks off for the next month.'

This time, Issie didn't bother hiding her distaste. She wrinkled her nose.

'Shit. That's awful. Poor Sycorax.'

Although she had to remember that Eris was well-known, not only for saying exactly what she thought, but also for putting a decidedly biased spin on facts at times. Issie had no love for Searle Nott, and could believe anything of him, but it was possible that Sycorax might tell a different version of the story.

'She's a fucking idiot,' Eris said, impatiently. 'It's her own fault. Anyway,' she went on, 'Aren't you going to be late for meeting your dad?'

'Merlin.' Issie suddenly registered how much time was passing. 'Yes. He'll be having to make polite conversation with Professor Longbottom. I'd better go. See you later, Eris—and thanks for the present!'

* * *

Rose woke in a bed that wasn't hers. For a couple of seconds, she stared at the ceiling, the full horror of the situation sinking in.

 _Fuck_. It was worse than last time. At least then they'd gone to hers, and she'd kicked him out well before morning. This couldn't be happening—she didn't _do_ this sort of stupid thing.

Except here she was in his flat, and broad daylight was showing between the curtains. And there he was, fast asleep at the other side of his bed. Rose sat up and glanced over at him, then looked away again quickly. What was _wrong_ with her? Once was a mistake. Twice was… She didn't even want to finish that sentence. And she couldn't even use the excuse that she'd been black-out wasted either, because she hadn't been. She'd been _drunk_ , sure, but their contest hadn't ever reached its conclusion, because they'd started arguing, and then he'd kissed her, and she'd let him. She remembered the entire thing, damn it.

She wasn't wearing anything, and that was a situation he mustn't wake up to. Where were her clothes? All in different places, she realised, with a hot burn of shame. Her shirt was all the way over by the fucking front door.

Rose gave another quick look at the sleeping man beside her, and slid out of bed, moving to collect some clothes and pull them on as fast as possible. She found her underwear, and her shirt, which was long enough to cover the girls' boxers she was wearing, but couldn't immediately see her jeans. Damn. How did a pair of trousers disappear between the door and the bed?

In looking for them, she was distracted by looking at his flat. It was, she had to grudgingly admit, nice. It was open plan, a sort of studio flat, because it was too big to be called a bedsit. It was the attic floor of an ordinary Wizarding townhouse, although he had his own entrance and stair, and it was obviously quite old originally, with beams in the ceiling and a big brick fireplace. But it had been recently done out, with polished wood floors, new kitchen units, and a vast king-size bed. His belongings were scattered around, but it was surprisingly clean and tidy.

He probably borrowed his parents' house-elf, she thought, uncharitably. And he certainly didn't pay for a flat like this, on Diagon Alley, out of his junior-level Ministry salary.

She should just find the rest of her clothes and leave, before he woke up. But curiosity made her pause longer. It was her habit always to look at people's bookshelves, and his was better stocked than she'd have expected. There was a pile of old school text books on the bottom shelf, and on the one above it several books on more advanced magic than was required even for NEWTs. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she spotted a couple on dark magic and its detection that she'd bought herself for her Auror training, and another on poisons. What exactly was Dannicus Urquhart's interest in the dark arts?

The top two shelves, however, were fiction, and she liked his taste. No Romilda Vane here—Urquhart liked clever thrillers, and detective novels on the literary end of the scale. And Beedle the Bard, apparently, she noted with a faint grin, as her finger moved over the thick spine of the familiar book of fairytales.

'Enjoying yourself, Weasley?'

She turned, and he was sitting up and looking at her, with an expression she didn't quite know what to make of. With a great effort, Rose forced herself to be calm. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassed again. After all, it was, as Sapphie had said when Rose had finally told her about it, only sex. And she was just going to ignore the fact that she had no trousers on, because who cared if he could see her legs?

Though it made it difficult to ignore, when he was quite blatantly staring.

'Eyes up, Urquhart,' she snapped, then smirked. 'Nice copy of Beedle you've got there.'

She spotted her jeans at last, half hidden under the bed, and pulled them out.

'Yeah, hardback edition, 2008, with the original illustrations. Not many of them around,' he said, without missing a beat, his eyes following her. 'Don't get dressed because of me, or anything,' he added with a grin, leaning back with an arm behind his head.

Rose ignored this, and fastened her belt.

'I'm leaving,' she said. 'Where are my boots? Oh, there.'

'Seriously?' His grin disappeared, and he scowled at her. 'You're not even going to stop for two seconds to talk about this?'

' _This_?' Rose shoved her feet into her chunky red boots—specially chosen instead of her usual black ones for Lily's birthday night out—but didn't bother with the laces. 'What are you on about? There is no _this_.'

Once was a mistake. Twice was two mistakes. That was all there was to it.

'Well, I didn't mean it to happen, any more than you did,' he said, his voice even. 'But here we are. Again. You could at least stay for breakfast while we figure it out.'

'Why, do you have some sort of domestic fantasy you want to live out? There's nothing to figure out. You're a good lay, I'll give you that.' Too bloody good, that was the problem. Nobody had the right to be that good with their tongue. 'But that's all. We're not even friends. And that is the way it's going to stay. Okay?'


	9. Chasing Ghosts

Two days after the Quidditch match, Felicity and her classmates were walking down to the greenhouses for Herbology, when she heard a now-familiar voice calling, somewhat more quietly than usual:

'Felicity! Hey, Felicity!'

She paused and looked around. There he was, not far from the path, with three other Gryffindor second-years. Since they'd met in the corridor, Lysander Scamander seemed to have decided that he was her friend, and had taken to shouting hello whenever he saw her. Usually that was all he did, because he and his friends were generally moving at breakneck speed through the school, and he paused only for a brief, _'Hey, Felicity!'_ before continuing on his way. Now, however, they were motionless for once, and Lysander was crouching on the ground, his friends gathered around him.

'Come and look!' he called.

She glanced at Addy, who just shrugged, so she left the path and walked slowly over to them. Addy followed close behind her.

Lysander had taken off his outer robe, which was bundled over his hands and over his arms, and, as Felicity came up to him, she saw that he was holding something carefully within the bundle.

'What is it?' she asked, peering inside, and caught a glimpse of something small, brown and spiky. 'Is it a hedgehog?'

'Nope, but close! It's a Knarl. We found it in the trees. Look.'

He nudged aside the cloth of his robe, and there is was. It looked exactly like a hedgehog to Felicity.

'Oh, it's sweet!' she said, in delight. 'But are you _sure_ it's not a hedgehog?'

One of the other second-years, a tiny girl with dark brown, curly hair escaping from a plait, and dark eyes that curved up at the end, laughed.

'You don't need to ask Sandy if he's sure about magical creatures. He's always right. Don't you know who his family are?'

'Um. No?'

 _Should_ she somehow know who his family were? Lysander was taking no notice of the conversation, but was focused on the little animal in his arms.

'They're naturalists,' the girl told her. 'You've got _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , right?'

'Oh!' The connection clicked in Felicity's mind. 'Newt Scamander! Is he your dad?' she asked Lysander.

He laughed, without looking up.

'Nah, he's my great-grandad. He's pretty cool, though. Here, d'you want to hold it?'

He thrust his bundle towards her, and Felicity automatically held her arms out. Carefully, he placed his robe, with the Knarl inside it, in her hands.

'Careful,' he told her. 'You've got to be gentle, or it'll get scared and attack you.'

 _Attack_ her? Felicity froze, but it was too late not to take it. It was just like her snakes, she told herself. They could attack you too, some of them. But they wouldn't, so long as you were quiet and didn't move suddenly. The little creature snuffled in her arms, its nose coming up to sniff the air.

Felicity smiled. 'It's gorgeous.'

He nodded, looking approvingly at her.

'Oh, by the way,' he added, glancing over his shoulder. 'These are my friends. Well, some of them. The others are in Ravenclaw, with my brother. This is Esme.' He gestured at the girl who had spoken. 'And Alfie, and Nessa.'

'Hi.' Felicity transferred her smile to the three other second-years.

Alfie looked enough like Esme that Felicity thought they must be related, although his hair wasn't as dark. Nessa, on the other hand, was tall, with a mass of long, untidy blonde hair, and a challenge in her gaze. Felicity couldn't quite decide whether they looked nice or not. They were a little bit scary, the way they stared at her, especially Nessa.

'Um, this is my friend, Addy,' she said, shyly.

'Hey, Addy.' Lysander nodded at her, but didn't seem fazed when Addy just stared at the ground. 'D'you want a go holding the Knarl too?'

Addy said nothing, but took a step backwards. Felicity shook her head.

'I don't think she does. And we ought to go. We've got Herbology.'

'We've got History of Magic,' said Nessa, who spoke with an Irish accent.

Despite this, none of the second-years seemed in any hurry to move towards the castle, although Lysander gently took the little creature back.

'You know, none of the others would hold it,' he told Felicity. 'You were the only one brave enough.'

Felicity didn't point out that he hadn't told her it might attack her until after he'd placed it in her arms.

She and Addy jogged to catch up with the other first-years, and took their seats in Herbology just in time, a little out of breath.

They were growing their own Puffapod plants in the lesson, and Felicity was quite enjoying it, because she liked gardening. Once Professor Longbottom had gone over some points from the previous lesson, and talked about some of the small ways people were going wrong, meaning that their plants weren't growing properly, he set them re-potting the Puffapods.

Felicity fetched a good-sized pot, but she was just sitting down again when she found Beatrice Harper standing beside her. She hardly had time to register this before Beatrice leaned forwards towards her.

'You know,' she said, confidentially. 'You don't have to sit with her. You can come and sit with us, if you want.'

Shock rooted Felicity to the spot for a moment. What was going on? Was it a trick? She had noticed Beatrice and Thalia and the others staring at her recently, and whispering between themselves, but they hadn't been teasing her quite so much. And Beatrice didn't seem as if she was joking.

For a split second, Felicity was almost tempted. She could be part of the crowd. She could be popular.

Then she looked at Addy, who was staring at the desk, her hair like a curtain around her face, and a rush of anger washed over Felicity, not hot anger, but icy cold. She found her voice.

'Why would I want to do that?' she demanded.

That obviously hadn't been the response Beatrice was expecting. She recoiled back, but Felicity went on before she could speak.

'Addy's my friend, and you've been completely horrible to both of us all term. I don't _want_ to sit with you! If you don't want Addy, I don't want you.'

Beatrice's astonished expression began to give way to fury.

'Well, fine! Stay here, and never have any friends except a stupid freak who can't talk, and some weirdo _Gryffindor_!' She seemed on the point of saying something else, then paused, glanced over her shoulder, and lowered her voice to a hiss. ' _Mudblood_.'

* * *

A message arrived on Rose's Communicator as she arrived at work on Monday morning, and she scowled down at it as she pushed the door of the Auror Office open. It was from Dannicus Urquhart. Rose had forgotten, until that moment, that they had linked their Communicators. Damn it. _Why_ had she done that?

 _You left your watch at mine_ , it said.

Rose had already guessed that, although she had been attempting not to think about it, and to hope instead that her watch would somehow turn up at home. Shit. If it was really at Urquhart's, she would have to retrieve it, because it was the watch her parents had given her for her seventeenth. Maybe he'd be reasonable, and agree to send it to the office anonymously or something, but he'd been annoyingly keen to talk to her the previous morning.

Well, he and the watch could both wait. She was at work. Rose shoved the Communicator into her pocket, and strode over to Kennet's office. The door was open, and Kennet looked up as she approached.

'Morning, Rose. I'm glad you're early,' she said. 'Quick update—did you hear about our graffiti artists up in Scotland?'

'Donnie Begbie's house.' Rose nodded. 'Did they get anyone for that?'

'Yes—no—sort of. There's a very strange pattern emerging. Scorpius Malfoy came up with a face again, and they got an ID on it. Andrew McTavish, forty three, thoroughly respectable Scottish Ministry employee, father of three. Absolutely nothing before this connecting him to the League, the Dark Arts, anti-Muggle sentiment, or anything else dodgy. And he's got an alibi—he gave a dinner party for several other Ministry employees on Friday night. He was with them all evening.'

'But didn't it happen in the night?' Rose said. 'He could have waited until his guests left, then Apparated, couldn't he?'

'He could—except that the staff at the Hog's Head claim he stayed there on Friday night, and that the entire time the dinner party was going on, he was actually eating and drinking in the bar there with two others.'

Rose frowned, thinking hard. 'So he was in two places at once?' She thought of Lily, and her time travelling adventures. 'Could he have used a Time Turner?'

'Unlikely. There are very few of them around these days, and they're tightly regulated. Hard to see how he'd have got hold of one. Lavender Hewitt's taken charge of the case, and she was down here first thing this morning, complaining about it all. She might have put it down to a simple mistake somewhere, if it wasn't part of this bizarre pattern we've got going on. There was that Muggle-baiting case last month, where we had a reliable witness, but the suspect turned out to have an alibi. Now there's another the same. And of course, there's our case, with our perpetrator who appears to have _died_ before the crime was committed!' Kennet sighed, rubbing her forehead. 'Every good lead we get just throws us up against more mysteries. It's like chasing bloody ghosts.'

Rose bit her lip. There must be an explanation—but she couldn't see it. It was exciting, that she was allowed to be part of a big investigation, and that she was trusted with information like this, but she just wished she could come up with something useful.

'What are we going to do?' she asked.

'Nothing we can do about the Begbie house case,' Kennet said. 'Lavender's on that one, and she'll keep us updated if she gets anywhere.' She glanced at Rose, hesitated, then went on. 'One thing she's looking into is the reliability of Scorpius Malfoy's evidence. The CIU's still convinced by him—they want to set him up with a research space. But the fact is that he's been involved in giving us two of these leads that have turned into impossibilities.'

Rose thought about this. She didn't particularly like Scorpius Malfoy, but she didn't particularly _dislike_ him these days either. And she had to admit to herself that a lot of her dislike at school had been based on assumptions about him. He was much less offensive than Urquhart.

'I don't think Malfoy's involved with any of this,' she said. 'I mean, I knew him for seven years at school, and as far as I know, he was never into the Dark Arts, or the Pureblood stuff.'

Kennet gave her a small smile. 'I agree with you, and I've told Lavender that. To be fair, her main line at the moment is simply that his stuff doesn't work. Which I'm not convinced by, but I see where she's coming from.

'In the meantime, we've got our own case. There's no sign of anything suspicious at Millicent Bulstrode's house—but then there wouldn't be from the outside, assuming anyone coming or going from it is either Apparating or Flooing. I'd like to get inside again, but I think we'd need a warrant this time. And we've still got no trace of Julius Bulstrode—or his niece, Eluned, who could be anywhere or nowhere.'

'D'you think that body really is Bulstrode?' Rose asked.

'Honestly?' Kennet shrugged. 'At this point, I have no clue. I don't see how it can be, assuming we trust Malfoy's evidence that Bulstrode definitely set up the Tentacular murder. I've seen the pictures the French authorities took—that body had been there too long for him to have died _after_ the murder. I also don't buy that Eluned killed him. By all accounts, they're as close as father and daughter. Why the hell would she murder him?'

'Should we be trying to find _her?_ ' Rose asked. 'I mean, at the very least, she might know whether he's dead or alive?'

Kennet grinned. 'We should. And we are. In fact, that's exactly what I have planned for us this afternoon. We're paying a visit to some Pritchards.'

* * *

'Bloody hell,' Kennet said, staring through the ornate gates and up an imposing driveway, towards the grey mansion made of Welsh slate, with squat turrets on each corner. 'So this is Neirin Pritchard's place.'

She tapped the gate lock with her wand, stepped back and waited.

'D'you know him?' Rose asked, with interest.

'Merlin, no. I know _of_ him, though.'

 _'Yes?'_ A woman's voice emanated from the air in front of them. _'Who is it?'_

'I can't believe people still live like this,' Rose murmured. 'Gated mansions, and security systems and all the rest of it.'

'Natalie Kennet, Auror Department,' Kennet said crisply, ignoring Rose.

There was a short silence.

 _'Auror Department?'_ the voice said, doubtfully. _'Er, you... you'd better come up to the house then.'_

A moment later, the gates swung open, and Rose and Kennet advanced through them.

'You know who Neirin Pritchard is, I assume?' Kennet said, as they walked up the drive.

'Well, I know he's Eluned Pritchard's paternal uncle, obviously. And I also know he created a bit of a scandal by hooking up with Gwenog Jones, didn't he?'

'Yes, although 'hooking up' probably isn't the right phrase to describe a ten-year relationship. It started right after the war, or even during it, I'm not sure—Jones was still at the height of her Quidditch success, though, and the papers all latched onto it in the year after the war ended. I think they were glad to have something juicy to write about, other than death and misery. And Neirin Pritchard was married with two kids already, of course, which was the big scandal. That, and him being a Pureblood heir. I was devastated.' Kennet chuckled. 'I was about twelve, and had the biggest crush on Gwenog Jones, you wouldn't believe.'

Rose grinned, trying to imagine the stoic Natalie Kennet as a twelve-year-old with a passionate crush.

'I never knew much about it before, but I looked it up at lunchtime,' she said. 'I mean, I was at school with his and Gwenog's kids, but all I knew was that they went by Jones, and that they didn't really have anything to do with their dad.'

'Yes, the Pritchards seem to have managed to estrange quite a few of their family members,' Kennet agreed. 'What with the Jones girls, and Julius Bulstrode taking Eluned away.'

'Which he shouldn't have been allowed to do, from what I was looking at,' Rose said. 'I mean, he and Neirin Pritchard were joint guardians, so he ought to have needed Neirin's agreement to take her out of the country. She was only about three at the time. And apparently the Pritchards tried to stop him, but somehow he managed to do it anyway.'

'It was 1999, Rose. The country was on its knees after the war—it's hard for your generation to imagine, I think. I was only aware of some of it myself, being so young, but everything we take for granted now had been pulled down, and had to be rebuilt. It was chaos for a long while, and a lot of things slipped through nets. I'm not saying it was right, or that the care of a little girl _should_ have slipped through the net. I'm just saying I'm not surprised it happened.'

'What a life for Eluned, though,' Rose commented, after a pause. 'I mean, her dad died fighting on the wrong side at the Battle of Hogwarts, and her mum died in prison waiting to be tried for war crimes against Muggleborns. Then her uncle practically abducted her. What a start to life!'

That was the war for you, she supposed. Not that there weren't people with traumatic childhoods in peacetime, too. But it was easy to forget all the countless lives that must have been turned upside down or destroyed, lives that hadn't belonged to heroes or famous names, who might even have fought on the wrong side, or just have been innocent bystanders. Eluned Pritchard's parents might have been terrible people, but she'd been a three-year-old. None of it had been her fault.

They reached the front door, and Kennet rang the bell. It only took a moment for the door to open, and a woman stood on the doorstep. She was tall and blonde, must have been in her early or mid-forties, and she looked both worried and puzzled.

'Good afternoon,' Kennet said. 'I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm Auror Kennet. I'm hoping to speak with Mr Neirin Pritchard?'

'Neirin?' The woman's frown deepened. 'I'm sorry. What's this about?'

'We're attempting to trace a relative of Mr Pritchard's, and we're hoping he might be able to help us.'

'Oh.' The woman glanced over her shoulder, and then back at them. 'I don't know… I don't think Neirin will want… I mean... Can I ask who you're looking for? And why?'

Kennet looked thoughtfully at the woman. 'Are you a relative yourself?'

'I'm his daughter-in-law,' the woman said. 'Diana Pritchard. You'd be better off talking to my husband than to Neirin, but I'm afraid he's not in.'

'Well, if it's all right, we'd like to have a word with Mr Pritchard anyway,' Kennet said, pleasantly. 'If he's available. And with yourself, too—it's possible you may know the answers to our questions.'

Diana Pritchard hesitated, looking them over, and taking in their uniforms and Kennet's badge.

'I see. Well… well, you'd better come in.'

They were ushered into a sitting room. The outside of the house, with its turrets and its tightly locked gate, and the centuries-old air of its stones, screamed old money and Pureblood values, and the size and shape of the room said the same. A high ceiling with a chandelier, ornate cornices, and a tall, arched window looking out over the lawn. The furniture, though, was smart and modern, and the decor was all clean white and pale green, with an airy feel.

'Do sit down,' Mrs Pritchard said, apparently recovering a bit of poise. 'Can I offer you tea or coffee?'

'We won't, thanks.' Kennet answered for both of them, and taking a seat on a green-covered armchair. 'By the way, this is Trainee Auror Weasley.'

There was a flicker of additional interest at Rose's name, but Rose was used to that. She sat down in the chair beside Kennet's, and examined some silver-framed photographs on a table beside her, of several smiling, perfectly-arranged, blonde-haired children.

Diana Pritchard seated herself opposite them.

'I really don't know how much help I can be,' she said. 'What _is_ all this? Nothing's happened to any of the family, has it?'

'Well, we're not entirely sure,' Kennet said. 'But we're looking for a woman called Eluned Pritchard, although she may go by Eluned Bulstrode. Do you know anything about her?'

'Merlin!' Mrs Pritchard looked genuinely startled. 'Eluned? Well, yes, I mean… I know about her. Not very _much_ about her—nobody really talks about it. I know they were all very upset at the time, but I didn't even know Graham then. It must be nearly thirty years ago. And… and _why_ are you looking for her?'

'I'm afraid we can't share that. But do you know whether anyone in the family has had any contact with Elenud recently?'

'Oh, no,' Mrs Pritchard replied, without hesitation. 'Nobody's had any contact with Eluned since that Bulstrode man took her away. It's very sad—I know they've never forgotten her. But I really don't think anyone here can help you find her, and I'd rather not upset my father-in-law. His health isn't good.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Kennet said, steadily. 'How sure can you be that nobody in the family has heard from Eluned, Mrs Pritchard? If, for example, she'd got in touch with them recently, within the last few months…'

'Because they would have said so!' Mrs Pritchard exclaimed, looking nonplussed. 'Auror Kennet, I don't know what sort of family you think we are. It's true that there were difficulties—those years after the war were very hard for a lot of people, and the Pritchards had their share of it. And the choices Eluned's parents made were… Well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you what they were, but they hurt the family very much. But that's in the past. If Eluned had got in touch with anyone, there would have been a family celebration. Everyone would have been delighted!'

'I see. The thing is, it's possible that Eluned may not want her whereabouts to be known,' Kennet said. 'Is there anyone in the family she might have gone to if she wanted to lie low for a while? Who might have kept it quiet, if Eluned wanted them to?'

'She was _three years old_ when she last saw anyone in this family,' Mrs Pritchard said. 'I can't imagine who she would go to. I wish you'd tell me what's happened—is it something to do with Bulstrode? Has he done something?'

'Diana?' a voice said from the doorway. 'What's going on? Who are these people?'

Rose looked up, to find an elderly man standing in the doorway. He was tall, with stooped shoulders, grey hair that hung to his shoulders, and he wore a brown dressing gown and slippers, and spoke with a distinctively Welsh accent.

'Oh, Neirin!' Mrs Pritchard jumped to her feet and hurried over to him. 'I wasn't going to disturb you. It's all right. Come on, let's settle you down again…'

Neirin Pritchard looked past her, frowning.

'Aurors?' he said. 'Why are there Aurors here? Get off me, Diana. I'm not a child—or on my death bed yet! Now, tell me what's happening.'

He was not, after a second look, as old as he initially appeared, Rose thought. Late sixties, maybe, but what Mrs Pritchard had said was obviously true—he wasn't in good health. His eyes and skin were yellowish, and he walked with the tired shuffle of a much older person.

She eyed him with interest, because she knew his youngest daughter quite well. She was friends with Roxy, although she went by her mother's name, Jones. Rose had never thought to ask—or even wonder—about Angharad's father. She supposed that he'd probably been better looking in those days, but still, how the hell did outspoken, feminist Quidditch legend Gwenog Jones end up with a guy who wore brown dressing gowns with his initials embroidered on the pocket?

'Neirin, they… they're asking about Eluned,' Mrs Pritchard whispered.

For a moment, Mr Pritchard frowned, looking as if he hardly knew the name.

'Eluned? Eluned? Why would anyone want to know about Eluned, after all this time? You're too late,' he said, turning to Kennet and Rose. 'Thirty years too late.'

'Mr Pritchard.' Kennet also stood up. 'My name's Natalie Kennet. I'm sorry if we've disturbed you. The person we're really looking for is Julius Bulstrode, but we want to talk to Eluned, and we don't know where to find her.'

He stared at her. 'Well, you're asking the wrong person,' he said at last, his voice cold. 'Bulstrode took her out of the country, and nobody at the Ministry did a damn thing to stop him. My parents tried, my brother tried, but he took her away, and as far as I know, she's never come back.'

'Your brother,' Kennet said, quickly. 'Which brother would that be, Mr Pritchard?'

'Please, Auror Kennet,' Mrs Pritchard broke in. 'Can't you see we don't know anything?'

'I'm the oldest of my siblings,' Mr Pritchard said, heavily. 'There were five of us. Cadfael came after me. He was Eluned's father, and he never should have married Judith Bulstrode—still, who am I to talk about mistaken marriages? The other three are all still alive and kicking. It was Madoc who really fought for Eluned. He was the next, after Cadfael. But if you're thinking he might know where she is, I tell you you're wrong. We've none of us seen or heard from her since she was three years old.'

'And what about Bulstrode? Have you seen or heard from him?'

'We have not. Bulstrode knows what reception he'd get if he came near us.' He smiled, grimly. 'And there are a great many of us. Nearly as many as there are of you,' he added, looking at Rose.

She blinked, startled, and then grinned. Somehow, although he wasn't very friendly or welcoming, there was something she kind of liked about Neirin Pritchard.

'That's some claim,' she said. 'How did you know who I am?'

'Who else could you be, with hair like that?'

'I was at school with a few Pritchards, I think,' Rose said, thoughtfully. 'There was one in the year above me. A girl, in Slytherin.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'And how old are you? Twenty-one, twenty-two? That must have been Branwen, Madoc's youngest. Her older sister, Rhiannon, was in Hufflepuff. See, we're not fussy about houses in this family.'

He spoke with fondness; he obviously loved his nieces, and an idea came into Rose's head. She turned and looked at the photos in their frames on the table.

'Are these some of your family? That one looks vaguely familiar,' she added, pointing at a picture of a fair-haired girl of about eleven, who smiled excitedly, and waved at the camera.

'They're my grandchildren.' He shuffled over to her and picked up the frame she'd indicated. 'This is Lilith, my daughter's child. My oldest daughter, Gladys, that is. This was a few years ago, the day Lilith started Hogwarts. Gladys married an Avery, so Lilith was always bound to be a Slytherin.'

'Lilith Avery.' The connection clicked in Rose's mind. 'Of course, that's who it is.'

'Do you know her?' He looked at her, the photo still in his hand. 'She's younger than you. Still at school.'

'I don't know her, but I overlapped with her at Hogwarts for a couple of years. She's friends with my cousin, Lucy. They're in the drama club together.'

He chuckled, although it turned into a cough. 'Ah, the famous drama club. Lilith talks about it a lot. And this one is Rhys,' he went on, picking up a picture of a boy holding a broomstick. 'He's Graham and Diana's boy. He and Lilith are the same age. And here's Lauren, his little sister, a Ravenclaw like her mother.'

He glanced over his shoulder at Diana, who was watching him with something between concern and exasperation.

Rose was not remotely interested in Rhys and Lauren, but she put a smile on her face.

'Oh, yeah? How old is she?'

'Oh, now.' He frowned. 'How old is Lauren, Diana? Twelve? Thirteen?'

'She's fourteen, Neirin. She's in her fourth year,' Diana said. 'Now, don't you think you'd better…' She trailed off, but gestured at his clothing, with a grimace.

Neirin ignored her. He looked at Rose, an expression on his face that was both sharp and wistful.

'I think you'll know Angharad, do you? She'd be about your age.'

'Yes,' Rose said, as gently as she could. 'She was the year below me, but we were the same house.'

'She's my daughter—did you know that?' He gazed down at the photographs again. 'I never see her. Or her sisters.'

'Neirin, that's enough of that.' Diana crossed the room, and took the pictures out of his hands, placing them back on the table. She gave Rose a reproachful look, then turned back to him. 'Come on, now. Don't upset yourself.'

'I'm not upset,' he said, irritably, and moved away from her, towards a desk at the side of the room, where there was parchment, quill and ink. 'I can give you the addresses of my siblings,' he said, taking a seat without looking round, and starting to write. 'They won't be able to tell you any more than I have, but I suppose you have to do your jobs.'

'Thank you very much—that's very helpful, Mr Pritchard,' Kennet said.

Rose watched him, wondering. Wondering all sorts of things, and most of them nothing to do with the case. Why didn't he see his daughters with Gwenog? Even though they'd split up, surely Gwenog couldn't stop him seeing them if he wanted to—and why would she do that, even if she could? He seemed harmless, even if his brother had got mixed up with the wrong side in the war. Did Angharad know anything about him? Would she _want_ to know anything? It was hard to know what Angharad would want, because she was so quiet and reserved that Rose had never really got to know her.

'Here we are.' Mr Pritchard finished writing, and held the parchment out to Kennet. 'Madoc lives in Cardiff—you'll find him easily enough at this address. I put another address on the bottom there too; I thought you might be interested in it. It was Cadfael and Judith's house.'

'Eluned's parents?' Kennet said.

'Yes. She was born there. My father tried to take possession of it afterwards, but he couldn't—Cadfael had entailed it to his nearest living heir, and there's no getting around a magical entail.'

'His nearest living heir. So that would be Eluned,' Kennet said, slowly.

'It would, although whether she even knows it exists is another matter. I don't think you'll find her there. Last time I was there, it was falling into ruin. Nobody can use it, see, without the legal owner's agreement.'

They took their leave, and Kennet glanced over her shoulder as they went back down the drive, then at Rose.

'Well done,' she said quietly.

Rose grinned. 'I thought he might loosen up a bit, if we could just get him talking.'

'And he did. Interesting old bloke, wasn't he? That was some good work, though, Rose, getting him talking about the kids.'

'I don't know how much use it's going to be, though,' Rose said. 'I mean, it doesn't sound like any of them know anything. What about that house of Cadfael and Judith's, though?'

'Well, we'll certainly check that out and see if there's anything there. And I want to talk to Madoc Pritchard and the rest. Because one of the main things that came out clearly there is that there's a whole family of people with a _massive_ grudge against Julius Bulstrode.'

* * *

 **A/N: Please leave a comment if you're enjoying this story! Or come and find me on Tumblr at aebbeswriting** — **I'd love to hear from readers!**


	10. December Days

The temperature dropped at the end of November, turning autumn abruptly into winter.

Scorpius, preparing to leave the Ministry one gloomy, half-dark afternoon, wrapped his old school scarf around his neck, and picked up his things.

His life had become simultaneously more exciting and less secure than it had been a few weeks previously. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement had produced some money, given him a small space and a desk, and told him to keep researching. The trouble was that Scorpius wasn't sure what to research, beyond what he'd already produced. It had just been his little side project—he'd always liked playing with new spells and enchantments, adapting things to work in new ways, but they'd only been for him, not for anyone else. Now he was being treated as some sort of professional developer of forensics techniques, and he felt out of his depth.

It didn't help that not everyone was convinced by what he was doing. His evidence on the two cases he'd worked on so far hadn't led anywhere as far as he could tell—although he couldn't help feeling that that was more on the investigating Aurors than on him. Still, he could see why they had doubts. He had doubts about himself as well.

'Nice scarf. Some house pride going on there,' Persis said from the doorway.

Scorpius turned and grinned sheepishly. 'It's the only warm scarf I've got.' He looked curiously at her. 'Which house were you? Gryffindor?'

'Good guess,' she said, with a smile.

'Well, it wasn't a total guess. I know you were friends with Teddy Lupin, and I know he was in Gryffindor, so.'

She laughed. 'Still am friends with him, in fact.'

Scorpius hesitated. There was no reason not to ask ordinary, polite questions, was there? He never had with Lily, even though he knew she was close to Teddy. Maybe that was why—she was _too_ close. It would have felt like encroaching on her picture-perfect family with his messy one. But Persis was different. Persis and Teddy were just normal friends.

'He's got a kid now, hasn't he?' he said, lightly

Her eyebrows lifted. 'He has. Jessica. She's coming up for three.'

Only about two years younger than Caelum, although technically there was a generation between them.

'You know we're related, right? His mum was my dad's first cousin.'

'Yeah, I know. I also know he's teaching your sister. Which was a miscalculation.' She laughed again. 'He deliberately waited until all the Weasleys had left Hogwarts before he went for a job there—well, except Lucy, but she doesn't take his subject, so it's okay. And then he ended up teaching his own little cousin. Not that I think he really minds—I don't think his NEWT classes give him too much trouble.'

Scorpius also laughed. Issie had mentioned briefly, in a letter, who her new Care of Magical Creatures professor was, and had said that it felt a bit weird, being taught by someone who was both her cousin and a stranger. It hadn't really occurred to him that it might also be weird for Teddy.

'So, what are you working on?' she went on. 'If you don't mind me asking, that is.'

'I don't mind, but I'm not sure it's going to work,' he said, frankly. 'I'm looking at different tracking spells. I mean, you can already match magic traces to specific wands, but you've got to have the wand to do that. And what I can produce is like a footprint—an impression of what happened at a particular place, but it's only a record of the past. What I'd like to be able to do is make something that can automatically track that footprint, as it were, to wherever it is in the present. We've got the Trace, so theoretically that sort of thing's possible, but the trouble is putting it into practise, because you can't just randomly put the Trace back on someone—it doesn't work like that. Muggles have what they call bugging systems, so I'm trying to create a magical version, but it's harder than you'd think. I wish I knew for sure that the stuff I got from those two crime scenes is actually worth something,' he added, despondently.

'Well, you should be sure of it,' she told him. 'Seriously. The Aurors have been chasing the League for months, if not years. I haven't had much to do with it up to now, because it's not my department, but I know a bit about what's been going on. And I'm telling you, your evidence has given us leads we'd never have had otherwise. Keep working at it, Scorpius. This stuff's worth it, I know it is. It's been too long since anyone tried to do anything new or different—and with the League running around, I think we need it.'

* * *

Some time later, Scorpius slid into a booth in the Leaky Cauldron, a pint in his hand. Danny and Calypso were already there.

'Hey, stranger,' he said to Calypso. 'How's it going? Nice that you've managed to make room in your date schedule for us at last.'

She rolled her eyes. 'It's only about three weeks since I saw you—and that's mostly because you've been constantly busy with work.'

'No, no, no,' Danny broke in, leaning forwards, his elbows on the table and a grin on his face. 'You don't get off that easily, Zabini. Just because Scorp's a recluse at the best of times doesn't mean you don't have to tell us about your mystery woman.'

'She isn't a mystery woman.' Calypso said, calmly. 'There's nothing mysterious about her.'

'So why haven't we met her?' Danny demanded.

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're an embarrassment.'

'Hoi!' Scorpius said. 'Is that meant to apply to me too? When have I ever embarrassed you?'

'No, you're not embarrassing—apart from that hideous jumper you're wearing. You're just a hermit, like Dan said.'

'Well.' Scorpius leaned back in his seat and stretched his shoulders, which had been hunched over his experiments most of the day. 'I've been here about one minute, and so far the two of you have managed to insult both my social skills and my fashion sense, for no reason at all. I don't know why I bother.'

Calypso laughed and reached out to pat him on the arm.

'Sorry, Scorp. How was work?'

'Never mind that!' Danny interrupted. 'Give us the gossip! All you've said about her is that she's Australian, and that you met her at work. Does she work for the _Prophet_ too, or were you interviewing her, or what?'

'Okay, okay. Look, if I tell you about her, will you shut up about it then? Her name is Charlotte, which I'm pretty sure I've already told you anyway. Yes, she's working for the _Prophet_ —she likes travelling, and she came over here a few times when she was younger, then she worked for a newspaper in Australia for a while, and now she's here and thinks she might want to stay. She's twenty, going on twenty-one. Is that enough?'

Scorpius opened his mouth, but Danny beat him to it.

'No. Tell us more. Is she hot? Who asked who out? Have you had sex? Are you in _loove_?'

'Oh, fuck off,' Calypso said. 'I've only been seeing her a few weeks, you prick. I like her, and I plan on seeing her more. And nothing else is any of your business.'

'Have you told your parents yet?' Scorpius asked, quietly.

She sighed. 'No. I s'pose I'll have to eventually, but it's so much easier just not to, you know? I mean, it'd be hard enough if it was some random _boy_ they knew nothing about—you know what they're like. But I know they're just going to freak out if I try and tell them I like girls.'

'Are they really going to be that bad?' Danny said, sounding more serious. 'I mean, they're nothing like as old-fashioned as mine. I always thought your dad was okay.'

'I don't know. Maybe not. They're not really homophobic—I mean, they're okay with gay people when it's just random people, not their daughters. They're just always so bloody overprotective of me and Rowan, and so fussy about who we're friends with and where we go.' She shrugged. 'Oh well, if they freak, they freak. They'll just have to get used to it, because whatever happens with Charlotte, I'm always going to be a lesbian. Let's talk about something different. How are your lives going?'

'Well, why don't you ask Dan about Rose Weasley?' Scorpius said.

' _What?_ ' Calypso said, rounding on Danny.

'What the _fuck_ , Scorpius?' Danny said at the same time, scowling heavily at him.

Scorpius grinned. 'Sorry, Dan. If you get to tease her because she has a girlfriend, she gets to laugh at you too.'

'I don't even know what I'm laughing at yet!' Calypso protested. 'What the hell's going on?'

'Can you maybe not yell about it?' Danny said through gritted teeth, glancing around, although there was nobody close enough to hear their conversation above the noise of the pub.

'Not yell about _what?_ ' Calypso looked fascinated, although she lowered her voice. 'Dannicus Urquhart, what have you been doing with Rose Weasley?'

Danny gave Scorpius a deathly glare, and Scorpius was satisfied to note that he'd gone red. Danny was much too keen on finding other people's weak spots and poking them—it served him right to have the tables turned.

'Look, we…' Danny shifted uncomfortably. 'We may have kind of slept together. Which Scorpius swore he wasn't going to tell anyone!' he added, although Calypso was no longer listening to him.

'Wait, _really?_ ' she said, shock slowly giving way to amused delight on her face. 'Holy fuck, Dan! How did that happen?'

'I only swore that about the first time,' Scorpius interrupted. 'Anyway, Calypso doesn't count.'

'The _first_ time?' Calypso started to giggle. 'Merlin, Danny, how many times has it happened?'

'Only twice!' Danny said. 'And it's not that fucking funny.'

'Yeah, it kind of is. Mostly because you're both so embarrassed about it.' Scorpius briefly thought of relating Danny's encounter with Weasley in the Ministry canteen, but decided not to be quite that mean. 'Anyway, what's the deal with you and her? The first time, you made it sound like the biggest mistake you ever made, and then you went and did it again.'

'I was drunk—both times!' Danny protested. 'And so was she. That's the whole story. It's not a big thing.'

'Yeah, but Rose Weasley, of all people?' Calypso shook her head. 'I can't believe this is the first I'm hearing about it.'

Danny scowled at her. 'Why _of all people?_ Just because, what? We weren't friends with her at school? You don't fancy her? She's a Weasley? Scorp can't say anything about that, after the whole thing with him and Lily Potter.'

'Nothing happened with me and Lily—you know that!' Scorpius protested, hastily.

'Well, I mean, all of those things are true,' Calypso said, ignoring Scorpius. 'I guess she's attractive enough, but she's not my type. She's just the last person I'd have expected to be _your_ type, that's all.'

'Well, she isn't my type.' Danny looked extremely uncomfortable with the whole conversation, and refused to meet either of their eyes. 'I don't even have a _type_ , and if I did, she wouldn't be it. I said we slept together, not that we're going out. Honestly? She's a stone-cold fucking bitch.'

'Insult her if you want, but try and pick something that's not sexist, Dan,' Calypso said, dryly. 'Anyway, she can't be that stone-cold if you managed to end up in bed with her twice. But at the end of the day, yeah, she's a Weasley. Which is not a _problem_ or anything, but it kind of comes with a lot of shit attached. Remember when someone sent that picture of Scorp and Lily to the _Prophet_?'

'And your colleagues published it,' Scorpius put in. 'Which was, you know, really nice of them.'

'Well, I haven't exactly been anywhere with Weasley that anyone could take a picture,' Danny said, before Calypso could say anything else. 'We haven't been sitting in any coffee shops together. Anyway, nobody would care. It was only because Scorp's a Malfoy.'

'Probably true,' Calypso acknowledged. 'So, anyway, are you saying that's it, then? Nothing else is going to happen with her?'

He shrugged. 'I doubt it. I mean, yes, that's it, and I doubt that anything else will happen.'

Scorpius watched Danny's face carefully. He'd started to be a tiny bit suspicious about Danny's feelings about the entire thing. First of all, there had been that highly-charged encounter in the pub that Scorpius had witnessed, and then Danny's confession that he had actually slept with Weasley again, the night of Lily's birthday. And now he was being very defensive, while simultaneously trying—and failing—to seem casual about it all. Scorpius personally couldn't imagine a more terrifying person to sleep with—let alone have feelings for—than Rose Weasley, and he wondered what on earth Danny had got himself into.

'D'you like her?' he asked, bluntly.

' _What?_ ' Danny seemed lost for words for a moment, and turned very red. 'I… I… _No_. I just told you what I think of her!'

'No, you called her names, but you didn't say how you feel about her.' Scorpius shrugged. 'I mean, I'm only asking, because it seems like you can't keep away from her.'

'What the hell's that meant to mean?' Danny said. 'I've literally never gone looking for her—all I've done is bump into her accidentally!'

'Interesting way to describe it,' Calypso said, with a grin. 'Did you also accidentally fall into bed with your penis inside her?'

'Fuck off!' Danny folded his arms across his chest, and glared furiously at both of them. 'If this is going to be the entire conversation tonight, I'm going home!'

Scorpius looked at Calypso, and met her eyes, which were dancing in amusement. And it _was_ quite funny to watch Danny squirm, given how hilarious Dan had found the whole saga of Scorpius and Lily, but Scorpius also felt a tiny bit bad for starting this.

'Okay, okay, we'll talk about something else.'

He gave Calypso a pointed look, and she rolled her eyes, then laughed.

'All right, if you'll shut up about Charlotte, I'll shut up about Weasley. Though I still can't believe you slept with her. No, okay, fine, I'm stopping! Scorp, why don't you give us some of your gossip instead?'

'I haven't got any gossip,' Scorpius said.

'Liar,' Calypso retorted. 'You've been working on a bloody Auror case, Scorp.'

'Which they barely tell me anything about, and I'm not allowed to tell _you_ any of the things I do know.'

She pulled a face at him. 'What's the point of having friends, if they can't give me exclusive scoops? Maybe I should try hooking up with someone in the Auror Department instead. What d'you think, Dan?'

Scorpius, who had lifted his glass to take a drink, laughed into it, and choked. Danny groaned.

'I can't believe you sold me out like that, Scorpius. She's never going to let it drop.'

* * *

'Okay, so we've got a bunch of the younger kids who are happy to help out.' Tilly produced a piece of parchment with a list of names, and put it on the desk in front of her. 'Only trouble is, I'm not sure how much use most of them are going to be.'

Issie was perched on top of the desk, while Titus straddled a chair beside them. Between the three of them, they had led the backstage and production team of the drama club for four years. At the other side of the History of Magic classroom, Lucy was conducting rehearsal, along with Eris, who had been appointed Assistant Director. Eris had been extremely smug about her promotion, but Issie was a little doubtful about Eris's ability to fulfil the role on her own, once Lucy had left. She didn't have Lucy's people skills.

She picked up Tilly's list and scanned it. She wasn't sure of her own ability to fill Tilly's shoes either, but there was currently nobody else to do it. If the drama club was going to continue, they needed more people who were able to take a proper role backstage. Some of the names on the list were strangers, but some she recognised.

'You roped your brother in?' she asked, with a grin.

Tilly sighed. 'Yeah, and that's my point. I mean I love Solomon, but I wouldn't leave him in charge of anything important. Or either of his mates. Benji Finnigan's fine as long as you tell him exactly what he's got to do, but he won't think of anything for himself, and Finn Creevey _will_ think of things for himself, but they'll be terrible things.'

'Wait.' Issie came to another name she knew. 'Lorcan Scamander? I didn't know you were recruiting second-years.'

'Well, I wasn't. But we cast Tamara Bosko as the prince, because Lucy wanted someone young enough to be realistic, and Tamara comes as a trio with Lorcan and that Quinn kid. We don't have parts for them, but I told them they could help out.'

'Well, I hope they're useful,' Issie said. 'Otherwise, I don't know what I'm going to do next year. I can't do it all myself, with the Quidditch team as well. Anyway, you're the one who's got the hang of doing costumes and stuff, Till.'

'Well, there'll hopefully be _someone_ here who turns out to be some use,' Tilly said. 'Lauren and Dalilah are pretty competent, and they're fourth-years, same as Solly and the others. That's older than we were when we started. Anyway, I've told them all to come for a general production meeting next week—we're going to borrow the Arithmancy classroom as well as this one, so Lucy can rehearse in here while we talk to them.'

'When you say 'borrow', does Sewell know you're using his classroom?' Titus grinned.

'Lucy said she'd talk to him this week. She can always manage that sort of thing. Anyway, what I thought we'd do is get them sorted into teams. Some people to give a hand making costumes and props, starting right after Christmas, a couple to help you with props on the night, Issie, and some to help with scenery. And Titus, you might want to pick someone you can train up to do lights and everything.'

'There are only like ten people on this list,' Issie pointed out. 'And that's quite a lot of jobs.'

'Well, some of them'll have to do more than one thing,' Tilly said, briskly. 'And the cast'll have to help out, like they always do. Solly and Ben'll be good for hauling set around, at least—they're both pretty tall and strong these days, and it doesn't take much brain power.'

'Hey, they might be better than you think, if you give them a chance,' Titus said. 'I mean, I was a fucking clueless little shit when I started helping out, and now look at me.'

'Yeah, you're not so little anymore,' Tilly said, grinning. 'The rest hasn't changed much, though.'

Issie, who was thinking hard, interrupted them.

'You haven't got any first-years on here,' she said.

Tilly looked surprised. 'Oh, well, no. I mean, these are just the people I managed to get on board, and I don't really talk to any first-years. Why, have you got someone in mind?'

'Maybe. They might not want to, but I know a couple I think are struggling a bit. It might be fun for them to have something to join in with, I don't know.'

'D'you mean that Goyle kid?' Titus said. 'I dunno, Is. She never fucking speaks.'

'Well, that doesn't matter if all she's got to do is hand out props,' Issie said. 'Is it okay if I ask her, Tilly? And there's her friend too, Felicity. She seems like a nice kid.'

'Hey, fine by me. The more the better, so long as you'll look after them and make sure they know what they're doing and stuff.'

The last thing Issie felt she needed was more responsibilities, but she nodded.

'Yeah, I will. And I'll see if they want to come next week.'

'Great. Well, I think that's everything for today.' Tilly tucked her parchment back into her bag. 'Over Christmas, I'll make up a full list of the props and costumes we need, and then we can get started straight away in January.'

Their meeting over, Issie turned herself around to watch what was going on at the rehearsal. Weylin, as the king, was on the 'stage'—an area at the front of the classroom, with Professor Binns' desk pushed to one side—with Eris, who was playing Paulina.

Paulina wasn't quite Eris's usual sort of part—normally she played romantic leads or stately queens, whereas Paulina was a servant, but she was also the largest female part, and ultimately the person who saved the day, which Issie thought had reconciled Eris to playing her. And Eris was definitely a mesmerising actor. It didn't matter that Issie didn't fully understand all the Shakespearean words—Eris brought them and her character to life.

'So, are two you going to the Yule Ball?' Titus asked from beside her.

Issie pulled a face. 'Maybe. Probably, I suppose,' she said. 'There's not going to be much else to do that night, is there?'

'Wow, Issie, don't sound too enthusiastic,' Tilly said. 'Yeah, I'm going—it is our last year, after all. What about you, Titus?'

'Course I'm going,' Titus said. 'Can't deprive the school of the sight of me in my dress robes, after all. You guys got dates, then? I feel sorry for yours, Malfoy. Poor guy's going to have a fucking fantastic time, with your attitude.'

Tilly laughed, and Issie reached out with a foot and kicked him lightly.

'I don't think most of our crowd are worrying about going _with_ anyone,' Tilly said. 'I mean, Lucy doesn't do dates, and nobody knows what's going on with Pádraig and Artemis—they act like a bloody married couple, but they won't admit there's anything going on between them.' She shrugged. 'So any of the rest of you who're dateless are welcome to come and join the party with us. I assume Jake's going with Tiggi, Is?'

'I assume so too,' Issie agreed.

She looked over at where Jake was now on stage, with Alice, Weylin, Eris, and a couple of others. Alice, who had once promised that she would act in a play only if she didn't have to speak, was now playing Perdita, the second biggest female part, with Jake as Florizel, her love interest. Jake had never been shy about getting up on stage, but Issie was almost surprised he was still doing it this year, since it wasn't something Tiggi had ever joined in with—and, with the Quidditch team as well, it took up quite a lot of his time. She wondered how Tiggi felt about it—it wasn't something Tiggi ever talked about, at least not to Issie and Alice, presumably because they were so close to Jake.

The scene came to an end, and Lucy looked at her watch.

'Okay, we can't go back over that again; we're out of time,' she said. 'We've only got two more rehearsals before Christmas, guys, and we've got the last two scenes to get through. We'll need Lilith back for the last week, for the scene where she comes back to life—can you tell her, Eris? And _please_ try and learn some lines, everyone. Remember we're nearly halfway through rehearsals, and the only person who knows any of theirs is Weylin!'

'What a bloody teacher's pet!' Titus said loudly across the room.

Weylin shrugged, only the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 'It's just called competence, Titus.'

Eris came over to them.

'Hey, I've been hearing things on the grapevine about your little first-year friends,' she said to Issie.

Issie raised her eyebrows, trying not to smile. Eris was such a weird mixture. She could be a total bitch, but underneath it, Issie was starting to believe that Eris genuinely cared about other people.

'I didn't realise you were on the first-year grapevine,' she said.

'Very funny. Actually, I'm on any grapevine I want to be on—and I got Josephine Dimitar to talk to me. She's not a bad kid, but you know what it's like at that age. She just goes along with the others, because she's scared that otherwise they won't want to be friends with her anymore. It's only a couple of the leaders who are real little dickheads. But anyway, Josie sort of knows me, because her sister's friends with Sycorax, and she says that apparently Beatrice Harper, who's the baby Queen Bee of the crowd, was all prepared to let Felicity Barlow into the hive. Only Felicity told her to get lost, which was like the ultimate insult, so now Felicity is Enemy Number One.'

'Oh, Merlin,' Issie groaned. 'Why did I get myself involved in this again?'

'Well, don't ask me.' Eris shrugged. 'Anyway, here's some more juicy first-year gossip for you: Josephine _also_ says that part of all this is because Beatrice has a massive crush on What's-His-Name Scamander, the one on your Quidditch team, who is currently paying way more attention to Felicity Barlow than he is to Beatrice Harper.'

' _Sandy?_ ' Issie stared at Eris, trying to process the idea of little Lysander, with his loud voice, dirty hands, and animals constantly spilling out of his schoolbag, as the focus of anyone's crush.

'Yeah. Young heartbreak's cruel, isn't it?' Eris grinned, then went on. 'On a more serious subject, Addy Goyle is having remedial lessons. Josephine found that funny, but don't worry, I told her not to be a little bitch. She didn't really know what the remedial lessons are _for_ , except that apparently Addy can't do any spells in any subject, although she gets good marks in Potions and Herbology, so make what you want of that.'

Issie frowned. 'Well, at least they're trying to help her. And thanks, Eris,' she added. 'That's really nice of you to check up on her.'

'Merlin,' Titus broke in from the other side of Issie. 'Don't tell her she's _nice_ , or she'll have to go and murder someone to prove it's not true! Hey, by the way, Montague, I hear you're going to the ball with Lorenzo Talbot.'

Eris screwed her face up in an expression of disgust. 'Well, you heard wrong. Who the hell told you that?'

'Really?' Titus looked interested. 'I thought he'd asked you.'

'He did,' Eris said, speaking slowly, as if to a small child. 'But I'm not going with him.'

'Ohh, you said no? How come?'

'Because I have higher standards than that,' Eris retorted.

'Wow, harsh. Talbot's not that bad.' Titus grinned. 'You and Malfoy should make a high standards club. She'd rather not go to the ball at all, just so she doesn't have to hang around with the rest of us.'

'I can get behind that,' Eris said, giving Issie a faint smile. 'Except that I have a new dress, so I'm definitely going.'

'Weylin can join your club too,' Titus went on. 'His standards are so high there's not a single bloody person, female, male or anything else, that he'll admit is hot. Where is the dick anyway? I want to go back to the common room; I left all my snacks there. Oi, Nott!'

Weylin was still standing at the front of the classroom talking to Alice, a little apart from everyone else. They looked like they were having quite a serious conversation, but at Titus's voice, Weylin broke off, and looked around.

'Come on!' Titus called. 'Time to go—I'm hungry!'

'And here we have a literal five-year-old in the body of an eighteen-year-old,' Weylin remarked, strolling over with Alice behind him. 'D'you need me to walk you back to the common room so you don't get lost, or something?'

'Thought I was just being sociable by waiting for you, but fine, fuck you,' Titus said cheerfully, standing up. 'I'm off—you can come if you want. See all the rest of you losers tomorrow!'

Weylin rolled his eyes, but moved after Titus to the door. 'Night, everyone. You coming, Eris? I'll see you in a bit for patrol, Alice.'

They departed, and, bit by bit, so did everyone else.

'What were you and Weylin looking so serious about back there?' Issie asked Alice, as they headed back to the common room.

Jake had left in a different direction, muttering something about meeting Tiggi. Where he was meeting her—clearly not in the common room—and what they were planning on doing, Issie hadn't tried to enquire.

'Oh, nothing, really,' Alice said, vaguely.

Issie looked quizzically at her. Alice was terrible at lying, probably because she didn't give herself much practise; she was just naturally honest. Sure enough, Alice caught her look, and turned slightly pink.

'It's not… It was just stuff he was telling me the other day. We've had quite a few prefect patrols together this term, so we've got talking. And it's just… Well, he's not looking forward to the holidays much, that's all. But I can't really just tell you it all; it wouldn't be fair.'

'Oh, shit, no, don't tell me anything personal,' Issie said, hastily. 'I can see how it must be weird for him, though—going home to see his parents, when he hasn't properly seen them since he was like twelve.'

'Yeah,' Alice agreed, though she didn't elaborate.

Casting her a quick, curious look, Issie saw that Alice's eyes were on the ground, a small frown on her face. She hadn't realised that Alice and Weylin were close enough to talk about things like that, although she supposed that endless nights of prefect patrols around empty corridors had to be filled with conversation of some sort.

'Addy Goyle's going home to the same thing,' she added, after a small pause. 'Except that she was only six when she saw her dad last.'

Alice looked unhappy. 'I can't even imagine it,' she said. 'We're lucky, Is.'

Issie thought about her family, whose surname was still said with distrust by so many people. About her grandparents in their gloomy mansion, Grandmother close-lipped and disapproving of Issie's bobbed hair and jeans, and Grandfather with his head in the sand, still acting like the Malfoy name was one to conjure respect with. The family members she barely knew because their parents had been ruthlessly cut off, the blank sections of her father's life that he wouldn't talk about, the faint remains of a scar on the inside of his forearm.

But also the home she'd be going back to in a few weeks. A Christmas tree to decorate, Caelum having to be physically hauled away from the pile of temptingly wrapped presents under it, laughing and joking and catching up with Scorp, Mum and Dad sitting in quiet companionship in the evenings while the radio played low music in the background. A home that, somehow, Mum and Dad had built out of nothing after the war.

'Yeah,' she said with feeling. 'We are.'


	11. Blood on the Warehouse Floor

**!TRIGGER WARNING! On-page death, blood, and some brief violence in this chapter.**

* * *

Rose moved quickly and quietly as she tested and strengthened the Detection Wards in place around the old warehouse. The place had been raided back in the summer, and quite a lot of dark artefacts, illegally imported, had been taken into custody. They'd also caught a couple of the smugglers, but, although Rose knew Lavender Hewitt was absolutely convinced the place had been run by the League, they hadn't been able to prove a link. Since then, the place had lain empty.

They'd been sent out to check, because there was a suspicion that the wards might have been tampered with, but so far, Rose hadn't found any irregularities. Simon Burman, a fully-trained Auror, was checking around the other side, and she wondered if he'd found anything. Regardless, she was happy to be doing real work again, even if it was more or less routine. It beat training exercises—and she was proud to be trusted with jobs like this, even though she knew that it was partly just down to the fact that the Auror Office was badly understaffed.

She reached the end of her allocated stretch, and turned to head back to the front of the building. As she passed a side door, dark grey metal in the bricks, she froze. Surely that couldn't be a voice inside the warehouse. She'd only just checked the wards and there was no sign of anyone entering past them. Unless they'd come in through the back, but then they'd have had to pass Burman. Could it be Burman himself? But in that case, what was he doing, and who was he talking to?

Rose pressed her ear against the door. No, she hadn't made a mistake. She couldn't make out words, but there was the a voice inside, indistinct and with an echo to it. One voice, maybe two. And another sound, a strange, muffled, urgent noise. Almost like—her stomach dropped—someone trying to talk with something over their mouth. Someone desperately trying to make themselves heard.

Then there was a sudden whispered word from one of the first voices, a soft thud, and the sound stopped. Rose's hand tightened around her wand. She had to find out what was happening. There shouldn't be anyone in there. And whoever it was couldn't be up to anything good.

 _'Alohomora_ ,' she murmured.

There was a faint click in the lock of the door, and when she pushed the handle, it turned, and swung inwards. Rose opened it just a crack, and glued her eye to the gap. It was hard to see anything inside; the warehouse was big and dark. They'd removed everything that was stored there, and the space was empty—a high, barn-like room, with stairs up to a gallery walk-way that ran around the edge near the ceiling. Something at the other side of it moved. Something? Some _one_.

She was taking a risk. If they looked this way, they'd see the crack of light around the door. But she had to find out what was happening. Her heart beating fast, she tried to make sense of the dim movements she could see, her eyes beginning to adjust to the light.

There were two figures, and from the tone of their whispered voices, they seemed to be having an argument. And in between them was a shorter, hunched shape, also moving. Rose drew back slightly from the door, pressed her wand to the small silver disc strapped to her wrist, and lifted it to her mouth.

'Burman, I've got a situation,' she murmured. 'People in the warehouse. At least two. I'm at the door in the north side.'

She returned to her spying position, in time to see one of the standing figures aim a kick at the shape between them. It rocked forwards, and suddenly Rose made sense of what she was seeing. It was a third person in the middle, kneeling and bound. She felt a little sick, remembering the room of dead bodies, their limbs tied for the Venomous Tenatacular to do its work. But this person wasn't dead, although they were no longer making a noise.

A wand pointed again, a spell flashed, and although Rose couldn't catch which spell had been used, she saw the bound figure roll forwards, slumping to the ground. Merlin. She couldn't stand here and watch this. And she couldn't wait for Burman either.

Rose opened the door a little wider and slid inside. The key was to move before they knew she was here. Silently, she pushed the door almost closed behind her, and edged along the wall to get a little closer. Her heart was racing, but her head was clear. She pointed her wand straight at the nearest figure, and cast a strong, non-verbal stunning spell.

The figure went down, and the other spun around with a shout.

'Hey! Who the hell's there?'

A bolt of light came Rose's way, but she dodged it.

'Auror Department! Drop your wand!' she called.

The man swore, and fired another spell. It grazed Rose's thigh with a sudden burning sensation, and she gritted her teeth. Where was Burman? She fired another stunning spell, but the man blocked it. Rose only just got her shield charm up in time to stop his counter-strike hitting her.

'I have back-up outside! You need to drop your wand!' she tried again.

Her next spell missed, as the man jumped sideways. He spun around, and there was a loud pop as he Disapparated.

'Fuck.' For a second, Rose stared at the spot where he'd been, cursing herself for not being faster.

Then she remembered the figure on the ground, and dropped to her knees beside them. They weren't moving.

'Hey, can you hear me?' she said, and when there was no response, held up her wand. ' _Lumos_.'

The sick feeling rose in her throat again. He lay face down, and the back of his head was a sticky mess of congealing blood. His arms were tied behind his back. Was he…? No. He moved when she touched his shoulder. There was more blood underneath him, smeared on the floor where they must have dragged him. Shit. He must have been pretty badly messed up before they even got him in here.

With a quick motion of her wand, she severed the ropes that were tying him. Then, as gently as she could, Rose took his shoulder and rolled him so that his face came into view, his head cradled in her other arm to pad the wound on the back of it. One of his eyes was puffy and closed, but the other was open and awake, full of dazed pain and terror in the light of her wand.

And _Merlin_ , she knew him. Jasper Parker, a Slytherin from the year above her at Hogwarts. A total dick, but that didn't matter right now.

'Hey, Parker,' she said. 'Can you talk?'

His lips moved, but there was no sound, and Rose realised what must have been done to him.

' _Finite Incantum_ ,' she said, pointing her wand at him, and immediately a moan of pain escaped his lips, the silencing charm lifted.

'Weasley?' Simon Burman's voice came from behind her.

'I'm here!' She looked over her shoulder. 'It's okay, it's clear, but I've got one stunned and one injured!'

'Bloody hell!' The glimmering light of Burman's wand approached her. 'What the hell happened? You know what, never mind. This guy needs help.' He lifted his own communication device, and spoke into it. 'Burman here, at the old warehouse site. We need medical down here fast. Unknown male, badly injured, plus another unconscious, hit with a stunning spell.'

'Parker, listen,' Rose said. 'We're going to get you help. There are healers on the way. Do you know who these people are? Why have they done this to you?'

She thought he was understanding her. His face twisted with effort, and his mouth opened.

'I… I don't…' he gasped out. 'It's mad! I didn't want… They're all… obsessed! And I don't… I don't believe it!' He broke off with a grimace and a gurgle of breath.

'Hey, take it easy.' Burman crouched beside them. 'Weasley, he's still bleeding. Look, here.' He pointed his wand at a dense, wet patch on Parker's abdomen, and rapidly muttered spells for knitting skin and sinew.

Parker groaned again, and coughed, bringing up blood onto Rose's front.

'Oh, shit,' she said. 'Burman!'

'Bloody bastards,' Burman said, with quiet intensity. 'They've really fucked him up.'

Several loud pops sounded outside, and Rose stiffened.

'Ministry Medics!' a voice called. 'Burman, are you there?'

'In here!' Burman shouted. 'Quick as you can!'

He moved aside to let them in, but Rose stayed where she was, Jasper Parker's head in her arms, and his blood all over her. She couldn't just let him drop to the ground. Several pairs of calm, efficient hands worked around her, voices spoke, but there was a ringing in her ears.

Parker was only a year older than her. James and Louis's year. He'd played on the Quidditch team, and once he'd knocked a first-year off her broom and almost got James expelled. And now she was holding his head and staring into his face as he sobbed in pain.

'Am I… am I going to… die?' he choked out.

'No, no, you'll be okay,' she said, hearing her own voice as if it belonged to someone else, and not knowing whether she was lying or not. 'Just hang on there, Parker.'

'We can't do this here—he needs St Mungo's!' someone said beside her.

'We can't! He's bleeding internally,' someone else snapped. 'Apparition would kill him!'

'I… I don't want…' he moaned, then broke off with another cough, another rush of blood. 'Tell my mum… Tell her…'

He coughed again, a horrible, retching sound that seemed to go on and on. And then he was still. No movement. No breathing.

'No,' Rose muttered. 'No, no, no.'

'Okay, let's get to his head.'

Hands were pushing her away. Someone else taking over. Trying to resuscitate, but there wasn't much hope in their voices. Someone took her arm and helped her to her feet, and she looked around to find Simon Burman beside her.

'You okay?' he said, quietly. 'Did you know him?'

'Sort of. Not really.' The words felt heavy to get out. 'I was at school with him. Jasper Parker.'

'He's gone.' The leading medic sat back on her heels beside Parker's body. 'There's nothing more we can do. He was too badly injured. That was spell damage on his internal organs.'

More pops sounded behind them, and Rose heard Kennet's voice.

'Rose? Simon? Merlin! What happened here?'

But Rose could only stare at Parker's body. Gone. Dead. Just like that. Twenty-two, twenty-three years old, no more. She'd felt the life go out of him.

'I'm not sure,' Burman said. 'Rose called and said there were people in the warehouse. By the time I got here, this guy was stunned, and this one was dying on the ground.'

Kennet looked at Rose, and she roused herself.

'I… I don't know who they were. There were two men. They brought him in here, and they were hurting him. He was tied up. I stunned that one, but the other one got away. I…' She trailed off, still staring at Parker.

'Okay,' Kennet said. 'Roper, bring that guy around, and take him into custody. He might be charged with murder. We'll need a full examination of the body, but nobody touches anything else. I want Scorpius Malfoy brought in here. We want to know anything he can find out of what went on before Rose and Burman arrived.'

Rose's mind, usually so clear and organised, felt scrambled.

'If the body's going to be still here, warn Malfoy,' she said. 'He was on the Quidditch team with Parker.'

Kennet's mouth set grimly. 'Noted. Thanks, Rose. Burman, any ideas on how they got in past our wards?'

'Yeah, I found the place,' Burman said. 'Right before I got Rose's SOS. Didn't get time to examine it properly before I got her message, but someone's made a very neat job of dismantling the wards. Just in one spot, so we wouldn't notice without coming out here to check.'

'Damn. How did they manage to do that? You all right to go and finish the examination there, Burman?'

He nodded. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Good. Rose, you're going to report back to the department, then you're taking the rest of the day off. No arguments.'

Uncle Harry was there when she got back to the office, and, when Rose saw him, it suddenly entered her mind that she'd probably broken all kinds of rules by going into the warehouse alone.

'Rose!' He broke off his conversation with Dennis Creevey, and strode up to her. 'Are you all right? I've just had some garbled report in from Natalie Kennet of a death at the warehouse site! Whose blood is that?'

'Jasper Parker's.' Rose's mind was spinning off into all sorts of directions, and it was hard to keep track of strings of questions. What else had he asked?

'Jasper Parker? That kid James hexed off his broom? Bloody hell! What was he doing…?' He broke off, looking at her. 'Never mind. You've had a shock. Sit down.'

He pushed her gently into a chair, and she let him, because her legs felt somewhat shaky. A moment later, a cup of tea was put into her hands by Dennis.

'Here,' he said. 'I don't know how you normally take it, but right now you need it strong, hot and sweet.'

Rose gulped in a mouthful, and it scalded her mouth and was sweeter than she liked, but she didn't care. He was right—she needed it.

'They brought him into the warehouse,' she said at last. 'I don't know why, or what they were planning on doing, but they were hurting him.'

The story came out, not in the nice, neat report she'd have liked to make, but in jumbled fragments of sentences.

'I'm sorry, Uncle Harry,' she finished. 'I know I shouldn't have gone in, but he was hurt…'

'No, you shouldn't have gone in, not alone,' Uncle Harry agreed. 'But I'd have done the same myself. Well done, Rosie.'

He put out a hand and squeezed her shoulder. Rose felt a tightness in her chest and behind her eyes, and hurriedly took another mouthful of tea. _I'd have done the same_. That was some praise, given who it was coming from.

'And when you've finished that,' he went on, 'you're going home. Clean yourself up, eat something, and don't come back until the day after tomorrow.'

'I don't need to go home. I'm fine,' Rose said, putting the tea down.

And if she wasn't, she had to act it. She was an Auror. She was at work. How was she going to last in this department if she fell to pieces as soon as something bad happened? She was tougher than this.

'No, you're not fine,' he said. 'And that's normal, Rose. You've never seen someone die in front of you—it's a shock. You're going home, but I don't think you should stay by yourself. Sapphie'll be at work, won't she? But if you Flooed your dad at the shop, you know he'd come over. Or Lily's at home. You want me to send her a message and ask her to come to yours?'

Rose shook her head, getting herself under control. 'No. Honestly, it's okay. I'll have a shower and then get in contact with someone. Seriously,' she added, as he looked dubious. Right now, whatever he said, she wanted some time alone to clear her head.

Her head, though, didn't want to clear. She went home to the flat she shared with Sapphie, and took a hot shower, but even the scalding water couldn't wash away the memory of watching the life leave Jasper Parker's face. The feeling of sudden, utter stillness as Parker stopped being a _person_ and became a _body_. The deadness of his eyes staring up at her, face still twisted with his final fear and pain. He'd tried to give her a message for his mother, but he hadn't been able to finish it. Shit _._ He had a mother somewhere, who probably didn't know yet.

Rose shut the water off and pulled the shower curtain open with a force that wasn't needed. She wouldn't be sick. She wouldn't give in. This was something she could deal with.

She scrubbed herself dry and pulled fresh clothes on, her skin itching as if his blood was still on it. It _was_ still on her clothes, and she jammed them into the laundry basket. They could be dealt with later. There were spells that would remove blood, but Rose had never paid much attention to that sort of household spell. Mum or Dad would know how to do it.

In jeans and a clean t-shirt, her hair still wet and loose, she left the bathroom. It was cold and she was starting to shiver, so she grabbed a fleece blanket that was lying over the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. _Eat something_ , Uncle Harry had said, and it seemed like a good idea. Maybe if she ate, she'd stop feeling shaky. He'd also told her to ask someone to come round, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't want to have to _tell_ anyone. And if somebody was nice to her right now, she thought she might break down, and she couldn't stand that. Rose never cried. Not since she was a kid.

She opened the door of her food cupboard and stared blankly into it, seeing instead Jasper Parker's last moments replayed again in her mind.

The doorbell rang, and it took her a moment to process that it was a real sound, not just a ringing in her ears. _Who the hell?_ Part of her wanted to ignore it, but the likeliest was that it was one of her family, alerted by Uncle Harry, even though she'd told him not to. She took a deep breath, crossed the room, and pulled it open.

Shock and dismay made her freeze on the doorstep. It wasn't anyone in her family. It was Dannicus Urquhart.

'I brought your watch over,' he said, after a long pause, holding it up. 'You never came to get it.'

Her watch. Yes, she'd left it at his place, and she'd been putting off having to see him.

'Right.' She held her hand out, but he didn't immediately give it to her.

'Are you okay?' he asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Rose pulled herself into some semblance of togetherness.

'Of course I am,' she snapped. 'Thanks for the watch.'

She grabbed it out of his hand, and started to close the door, but he was standing in the way.

'Well, you don't look it.' He sounded slightly alarmed.

Rose paused with the door half shut. 'Urquhart, I'm fine,' she said, through gritted teeth. 'Just not really in the mood to talk, so if you don't mind…'

'Just like your normal mood then. So I'll leave you in peace—as soon as you convince me I don't actually need to call you a healer, because you look _ill_ , Weasley.'

She needed him to leave. She needed him to leave because even this amount of concern expressed for her, from someone who didn't even care about her, was making her self-control start to slide out of her hands.

'I'm not ill,' she told him, and stopped, because the tremor in her voice didn't sound very convincing.

'So what's wrong?'

And he sounded so entirely unlike his normal self, so lacking in the usual antagonistic edge that was always in their encounters, that something cracked in Rose.

'Look,' she told him, her hand gripping the door frame tightly, 'I just watched a guy die. I had his blood on me. So I really just need… I just need…' She broke off. The only thing she really needed was to stop seeing Parker's face in her mind. And there were tears coming, whatever she did to stop them. 'I just need to be by myself,' she got out, turning her head away from him.

'No offence, but I feel like that's actually the last thing you need after something like that,' he said steadily, showing no shock at what she'd just told him. 'But if you want me to go and get somebody different, instead of me, then I…'

' _No._ I don't want a fuss.'

There would be one anyway, once her parents and the rest of them heard, but at least they didn't need to see her until she'd recovered herself a bit.

'Well then, if I promise not to fuss, can I come in?' he asked.

Her normal, rational mind said ' _no_ '. Said that that would be a mistake, that it would be letting him become something she didn't want him to become. Said that the guy you'd had angry, drunk sex with twice was not the guy you wanted by your side in a crisis.

The other part of her mind, which seemed to be in charge at that moment, said nothing, just stepped back from the doorway and let him in.

He shut the door behind him and looked her over, his eyes more serious than she'd ever seen him.

'You're shivering,' he told her. 'Have you only got a t-shirt on under that blanket?'

'I'm fine,' she repeated, digging her fingers into her arms to try and stop the trembling.

'Nah, you're not. Sit down, and I'll grab you something. Where are your jumpers, or cardigans or whatever?'

She gave in, because she was freezing. 'Bottom drawer in the bedroom,' she muttered, letting him steer her to the sofa.

She curled up into it, while he disappeared into her bedroom, and a moment later he emerged with a thick orange hoodie.

'Here you go. Matches your hair,' he said, holding it out to her.

She managed to laugh shakily as she took it, but somehow, as she pulled it over her head, the laugh turned into a sob.

He dropped down on the couch beside her.

'You know, Weasley, it's okay not to be okay sometimes. Especially when something like this happens. You don't have to be tough and untouchable the whole time.'

Rose hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes. The tears were spiking behind her eyelids, and she clenched her fists.

His hand touched her shoulder, a light touch, like a question. _Is this allowed?_

And it shouldn't be allowed, none of this should be allowed, none of it should be happening, but the touch of someone warm and alive was her undoing. She rolled into him, buried her face into his shoulder, and let the sob come.

It was only a few moments before she was in control again. And this time, the control felt like something calm and steady inside her, not something she had to cling onto for dear life. His arm was around her, his shirt smelt of expensive cologne, and her cheeks burned with the realisation of what had just happened. Merlin, she'd just _cried_ on Danny Urquhart's shoulder—the same boy she'd spend the last few months despising.

'Shit.' She pulled back, and rubbed her hands over eyes once, hard. 'I didn't mean to… I don't normally do this.'

'Well, I'm going to assume you don't normally watch people die, either,' he said. 'It's kind of understandable.'

She didn't want him to be nice to her. Although she had to admit that she was feeling better than she had been ten minutes ago. And warmer. It would be so easy to let go, to give in and admit that yes, he was right and she was a mess, and that being a mess _was_ understandable, like he said—but she still couldn't quite do it. She took a deep, shaky breath.

'Why are you doing this?' she asked.

'Well, I couldn't exactly just walk away and leave you like that. I don't know what kind of soulless bastard you have me down as, but I'm not _that_ much of one.'

Did she think that of him? No, not really. But she hadn't really got as far as assessing his personality much beyond _annoying_. Her brain, though, was starting to come back to life.

'Hold on. I should have been at work right now. How did you know I wasn't? You weren't even surprised when I told you what had happened…'

He drew his arm back slightly, and shifted uncomfortably.

'Oh… yeah. Well, I kind of already knew what had happened. Scorpius told me. I mean, we both had the day off so we were going to grab some lunch, but then he got called in, so he let me know. And he mentioned you'd been there.'

'What?' She leaned back and stared at him. He'd _known_ , and he'd come over anyway? They weren't friends. She'd made that very clear last time she'd seen him. He had no right to act as if they were. 'Why? I mean, why would you do that? Why would you come here when you knew something like that?'

She stared at him. The expression on his face was unfamiliar, but she couldn't not see it, and something dropped in her chest. His position was still relaxed, but his fingers had tightened on the cushions at the back of the couch, and there was worry with an edge of panic in his eyes. The sparkling amusement that was normally in them had disappeared entirely, and the answer to her question was right there in front of her. But she had to be wrong, didn't she? There was no way Urquhart wa here because he _cared_ about her.

'I don't think we should have this conversation,' he said at last.

'Why not?' she demanded. If he _did_ care about her—which he _couldn't_ —then he could bloody well grow up and tell her. Though she had no idea how she'd respond if he really did that.

'Because that's _not_ why I came.' He removed his arm from where it lay behind her, and leaned back at the other end of the couch. 'I mean, I didn't come to have this conversation. I just… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Because you pretend to be okay even when you're not.'

Rose wrestled with herself. Every instinct wanted her to snap at him, to push him away again, like she had every time. But now there was a new part of her that felt she would regret it if she did. This was different. He'd come round to check if she was okay, and there _was_ a reason for that, a reason she didn't want to examine, but she was also—if she stopped fighting it and let herself feel it—glad he'd come. And she didn't want to examine that either.

So maybe he was right, and they just shouldn't have this conversation right now.

'Have you had any lunch?' he asked, as the pause stretched.

She shook her head, still trying to process it all.

'Me neither,' he said. 'You want to get some? Because I'm still not leaving you by yourself,' he added. 'No matter how much you swear at me.'

Rose glared at him, half annoyed and half amused—and yes, a little bit grateful to him.

'Okay, fine, but I don't want to go anywhere,' she said. 'So you'll have to put up with vegetarian, because it's all I've got.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'I can live with that.'


	12. Secrets

**A/N: Apparently at least one person didn't get an email alert for the last chapter. Hopefully that didn't happen with too many other people, and also hopefully has now fixed the glitch, but if you're reading this and didn't get an email when you should have, could you please let me know maybe? Not sure what I'd be able to do about it (nothing probably) but I'd like to be aware!**

* * *

The end of term raced towards Hogwarts. Sleety rain fell and then froze in puddles, turning the grounds into an icy, muddy marsh. Inside, the school hummed with preparations for the Yule Ball.

Issie, wrestling her clothes on as quickly as possible after a cold, damp Quidditch practise, was thinking neither about the ball nor even about her team's tactics. Instead, her mind was on the news that had been in the _Prophet_ that morning. Jasper Parker was dead. There had been no details, except that it was being investigated as a murder by the Auror Department. That was the second murder this term that the Auror Department had taken over, and everyone was whispering that it was the work of the League.

Issie had vivid memories of Parker; he'd knocked her off her broom after she caught the Snitch in her very first Quidditch match. But still, for him to be _murdered_ was a horrible thought. She wondered why it had happened. If it was an Auror investigation, that meant they thought it wasn't just some personal motive. He'd been killed for a reason, and that reason had something to do with the Dark League. Had Parker been a member? Issie wouldn't put it past him.

And she couldn't help wondering whether there was any connection with the fact that this was the week a number of the original League leaders were being released from Azkaban. She hoped not, for the sake of Weylin and Addy and others like them, but it seemed horribly likely. Issie had vivid memories of Mr and Mrs Nott too—and she wasn't convinced that a spell in prison would have done much to change their attitudes about anything.

'Hey, Is, you got a date for the ball?' Robyn asked across the changing room.

Issie pulled her thoughts away from the League. Why did everyone keep asking her about dates to the ball? Was it so weird that there was simply nobody she'd be interested in going with?

'Nope,' she said. 'And I'm not planning on getting one either.'

'Why not, though? I mean, there are plenty of guys who'd go with you!'

'Pretty sure that's not true, since none of them have asked me,' Issie said, from inside the Gryffindor jumper she'd just pulled over her head.

Robyn sighed. 'Yeah, because you're _you_. You've got the whole, fierce, 'I'm-the-Quidditch-Captain, don't-come-near-me-or-I'll-hit-you-with-my-broom' thing going on. They'd be too scared to ask.'

Issie tugged the jumper down and shook the static out of her hair, laughing. 'Robyn, that's the biggest bullshit I've ever heard. Since when am I scary? Have you _seen_ me? The only person on this team shorter than me is Sandy, and he'll only need a bit of a growth spurt to overtake me!'

'It's not about size,' Robyn told her. 'It's that glare you've got.'

'She's got a point,' Sam said, with a grin, sitting on the bench beside Issie to put her shoes on.

'No, she doesn't. That's ridiculous,' Issie protested.

'I was scared of you, until I got to know you,' Melissa put in, unhelpfully. 'I mean, not in a bad way, like I didn't think you were mean or anything. But I'd never have dared to come up and start talking to you.'

Issie stared at them. They appeared to be serious, but what they were saying was nonsense. She was about the least intimidating person around. Anyway, the idea that it was the reason nobody had asked her to the ball was just stupid.

'Come on, Issie!' Robyn said. 'Who'd you go with, if you could?'

'Merlin! There's nobody—seriously. I am totally fine without a date. I'm going with my friends.'

It wasn't that she was uninterested in all that sort of thing in general—she wasn't Lucy. It was just that dates and boyfriends weren't things Issie wanted complicating her life at the moment. She'd had a date for the last ball, two years before, and it had been very awkward—not least because he'd wanted to keep seeing her afterwards, and she'd spent the next few weeks trying and failing to be as much into it as he was. It just didn't seem worth the effort.

Robyn looked at her, disappointment plain in her face.

'There must be _somebody_.'

'Well, there isn't.' Issie collected up her things, and spoke as firmly as she could. ' I don't care why nobody's asked me. I just hope they keep on not asking!'

* * *

However, at the final drama club rehearsal, while Tilly briefed some new recruits—including Addy and Felicity, Issie had been pleased to see, although Addy looked about as enthusiastic as Addy usually looked about anything—she sat down next to Titus. It was no use asking Alice and Jake. They wouldn't have any kind of useful perspective.

'Titus, am I scary?' she demanded.

'Bloody terrifying,' Titus said, promptly. 'It's the yellow eyes, and the big spike at the end of your tail. Oh no, sorry, that's a Hungarian Horntail…' He ducked the quill she threw at him, and broke off, chuckling.

'I'm being serious! Well, sort of. Robyn was trying to tell me the other day that I'm intimidating to people who don't know me or something.'

Titus leaned on the desk, and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

'Hm. Well, I don't know if I'd challenge you to a duel, if that's what you mean. I think you could be pretty lethal.'

'Would you ask me to the ball?' Issie said, bluntly.

He looked startled, then worried.

'Me, personally? Is that a trick question?'

' _No_. Merlin. I mean, theoretically, if you were a random guy and I was a random girl, would you be too intimidated to ask me?'

'I don't know!' He spread his arms helplessly. 'What kind of fucking question's that? I thought you didn't want a date!'

'I don't.' Issie sighed. 'Never mind. Forget it.'

'Issie,' he said, more seriously, 'stop worrying about it. I mean, none of _us_ are scared of you, are we? If there are some stupid fuckers who think they couldn't handle you, they're probably right, so you wouldn't want their limp little dicks anywhere near you anyway. If they're scared of you—and I have no clue if that's true or not—let them be scared, and hold out for the person who isn't, you know?'

Issie groaned, then laughed. 'Titus, you're gross, but I love you,' she said. 'Thank you—I think.'

'Any time.' He grinned, and then looked doubtfully at her, his grin fading. When he went on, it was in a lower voice, with a quick glance around him to check that nobody else was listening. 'Um, also. I wouldn't ask you to the ball, because I'm gay. Just so you know.'

Issie's laughter died on her lips, and she stared at him. 'Wait, _what?_ Are you serious?'

'Yeah.' He looked at her, his brow creasing. 'It's not… I mean, I don't want to make a big _thing_ of it, but I haven't told anyone except Weylin and Oscar yet, so like…'

'I won't tell anyone. Of course I won't.'

He looked more nervous and vulnerable than Issie had ever seen Titus look, and her heart went out to him. She leaned over and hugged him hard.

'Thank you for trusting me. And whenever you do tell anyone else, I'll be right here to support you. Just so you know.'

* * *

The ball itself was well under way when Issie slid into the seat beside Alice, and looked at her for a moment. Alice looked lovely as usual, in her red dress and her hair in curls over one shoulder, but what she didn't look was happy. Given Alice's normal cheerfulness, and the fact that up until the last few days, Issie thought she'd been looking forward to the ball, it suggested to Issie that something was wrong.

She leaned towards Alice. 'What's the matter with you?'

Alice turned and stared at her, wide-eyed. 'Nothing! What's meant to be wrong with me?'

'Well, all I know is, until about two weeks ago, you were the one telling me that this ball was going to be loads of fun, and I should just lighten up and look forward to it. And now it's like you don't want to be here.'

'That's not true!' Alice protested. 'I do want to be here—and I am having fun! Aren't you?'

'Earlier, when we were getting ready, you just stood there looking at yourself in the mirror and sighing,' Issie went on, ruthlessly. 'Now you're sitting over here while most of our friends are dancing. When you're talking to anyone, you start smiling and acting happy, but whenever you think nobody's looking, you go all frowny and sad. So what's the matter?'

Alice's shoulders tensed.

'It's nothing, Is. Seriously. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? I just wanted a rest, that's all!'

'Alice, you're probably the worst liar I know, and I've got a five-year-old brother.'

For a moment, it looked like Alice was going to keep arguing. Then she sighed and slumped back in her chair.

'I told you, it's nothing. It's stupid. But it's just our last ball, you know? They're only every two years, so we'll have left by the time there's another one. And I didn't have a date for the last one, and I don't have a date now, and it just… Well, it would have been nice, you know?'

Issie stared at her, startled.

'Oh. Wow. I didn't realise… I mean, you're not really upset by it, are you? It's just a ball, Alice. It's only one night. You have literally every other night of the year to go on dates—in better places than the bloody school hall!'

Alice sighed. 'I know—I know! I told you it was stupid. Just ignore me. It doesn't matter.'

Issie looked closely at Alice's round face. Where was this coming from? It wasn't as if Alice had never been on a date before—she'd had a couple of boyfriends, and they'd both lasted longer than any relationship Issie had had. Why the sudden fuss over the ball?

'Alice, is there someone… specific you wanted to ask you?'

'No!' Alice turned pink, her eyes avoiding Issie's. 'No. Definitely not.'

Issie narrowed her eyes.

'Alice…'

'Merlin, what happened to the teachers and all their rules about appropriate behaviour?' Tilly huffed, planting herself down in the seat on the other side of Alice, clutching a cup of non-alcoholic punch. 'I've just had to witness my little brother with his tongue down a girl's throat, and I think I'm scarred for life.'

Alice turned to her with obvious relief, and laughed. 'Really? Solly's with a girl? Bless him.'

' _Bless_ him?' Tilly shook her head. 'I am not blessing him. That's like the opposite of what I'm doing. I can't believe he even had the guts to ask anyone to the ball—or the brains to do it in a way they'd say yes to.'

Issie shot a look at Alice, but allowed herself to be diverted—for now. Instead, she grinned at Tilly. ''He didn't. He's with Ruby Yeung—you know, she's one of our Chasers?—and she asked him. She told me.'

'Merlin, she needs to re-examine her life choices.' Tilly leaned back in her chair. 'Alice, you're a prefect—go and tell them they're breaking the rules.'

'No!' Alice protested. 'That's just mean.'

'Yeah, leave them alone, Tilly,' Artemis put in, from where she was sitting on Pádraig's knee across the table. 'Stop being such a grandma, and let the poor kids enjoy themselves.'

'I am not being a grandma!' Tilly said. 'I just don't appreciate having to _see_ it.'

'So look the other way,' Pádraig added with a grin. 'It's literally the only way to do it. Like I did the other day, when Nessa was seeing how far she could slide down the banisters on the main staircase before it moved and made a gap.'

'She was _what?_ ' Alice stared at him, eyes wide. 'Pádraig! She could have been really hurt! That staircase goes down miles.'

'Sure, but the point is, me telling her not to do it would only have made her do it more,' Pádraig said, waving a hand. 'You've got to be chill about this stuff, Tilly. Anyway, Solly's not risking any broken necks with what he's doing, unless he's doing it really wrong.'

He took a drink from the glass that Artemis was holding, which had two straws in it and which they seemed to be sharing. Issie could see what Tilly had meant the other week, about Pádraig and Artemis acting like a couple; there was no reason for Artemis to be sitting on his knee at all, since there were several empty seats around them.

'I'm going for a drink,' Alice said, getting up. 'Anyone else want one?'

'We've got one, thanks,' Artemis said, waving the cup in her hand.

'Yeah, me too,' Tilly added.

'I'll have one,' Issie said. 'But it's okay, I'll come and get it…'

'No, it's fine.' Alice gestured her to stay sitting down. 'I'll bring them.'

She disappeared, and Issie watched her cross the room, suspecting that Alice's sudden desire for a drink might have had something to do with getting away from Issie and her questions. Well. That was interesting. However, there wasn't much she could do about it right now. She'd have to get it out of Alice later, when they were by themselves. Issie turned her eyes to the crowd on the dance floor instead.

Titus was there, with Lucy and some of the others, and Issie watched him for a moment or two, wondering whether she should have realised about him. Max, who was with them too, had come out two years ago (though Issie thought he might have told Lucy and the others before that), and nobody had been surprised. Although she didn't want to start thinking in stereotypes, Max was much more _obviously_ gay than Titus. For example, tonight, he was wearing eyeliner and nail varnish. But she shouldn't have made assumptions about Titus just because he wasn't like that. Anyone could be gay.

Still, it seemed like her friends were determined to surprise her at the moment.

'Hey, is this seat spare?' a voice said beside her, and she glanced up to find Eris standing beside her.

'Oh, well, Alice was sitting there, but go for it.' Issie waved at the chair. 'There are plenty of seats.'

'What have you done with all the rest of the Slytherins?' Tilly asked, as Eris sat down.

'Well, Lilith and Oscar both went and got themselves dates. Titus is there, making a prat of himself.' Eris gestured at the dancefloor. 'And I was hanging around with Weylin, but he went to get a drink, so I said I'd meet him over here with you guys. I'm assuming those are the ones you meant, not that you're expecting me to be responsible for my entire house.'

Well, at least Eris could be relied on to be predictably sarcastic. However, Issie glanced over to where Weylin was standing by the drinks table, talking to Alice. He was another one who hadn't been very happy recently, although there was no mystery there about why. In two days, Weylin was going home to see the parents he hadn't seen—aside from the odd visit he'd presumably paid them in prison—for six years. Parents who had been responsible for starting the organisation that was now causing so much trouble, the organisation that might have killed Jasper Parker.

'How's he doing?' Tilly asked, her voice a little lowered, voicing what was in Issie's head.

Eris shrugged. 'No idea. You know what he's like—he won't talk about any of it. At least, not to me. Oscar and Titus'd be better people to ask.'

 _Or Alice_. Issie didn't say it, but she couldn't help wondering whether Alice maybe knew more than any of them about what was going on in Weylin's head. He'd never exactly been easy to read, but Alice, with her open, unthinking kindness, had a knack for getting in close to people. Still, if Weylin had chosen not to share things with the rest of them, that was his choice, wasn't it?

'Hey, why don't we all get together and do some stuff over Christmas some time,' Artemis suggested. 'I mean, most of us are seventeen now—we could go for drinks somewhere. And it would get him out the house, right?'

'Without looking like we're feeling sorry for him or whatever,' Tilly agreed. 'Good idea. Are you guys up for it?' she asked Issie and Eris. 'I mean, I know you're seventeen, but you won't have passed your Apparition tests yet, have you?'

'There's still the Floo Network,' Issie pointed out. 'Jake's house isn't on it, but one of you could Apparate and fetch him or something.'

'Must be shit being a Muggleborn in the holidays,' Eris said. 'You'd never get to see anyone.'

'Well, Jake only lives about an hour out of London, so his mum used to bring him up to Alice's pretty often, before he was old enough to get the train by himself,' Issie said. 'But I s'pose it must suck a bit, when the rest of us can just jump in the fireplace.'

'Still, he can get to the Leaky without too much bother, right?' Pádraig asked.

'I s'pose, though going for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron'll be a bit awkward.' Issie grinned. 'Alice isn't seventeen yet, and her mum owns the place.'

'Well then, Alice can drink pumpkin juice,' Artemis declared.

'Or we can go somewhere else,' Tilly put in. 'Anyway…'

She was interrupted by a shriek from Artemis.

'Oh! I love this song! Come on, let's dance!' She launched herself off Pádraig's knee, pulling him up with her.

'Seriously?' Eris rolled her eyes. 'This song is _shit_.'

Artemis swung around, looking outraged. 'Eris Montague, this is classic Weird Sisters!'

'Old. Overplayed. Bad lyrics. And the Weird Sisters are completely overrated.' Eris lifted one shoulder in a shrug, a smirk playing around the corner of her mouth.

'Whatever! Fuck off with your boring-ass music then,' Artemis declared, although she was laughing. 'Come on, you two!'

She hauled a mildly-protesting Tilly up, grabbed Pádraig by the hand, and towed them off towards the dance floor.

Issie turned to Eris, her arms folded over her chest.

'I know you listen to the Weird Sisters.'

Eris raised her eyebrows. 'I do not listen to them.'

'Liar.' Issie hadn't been intending to dance, but suddenly she'd changed her mind, and jumped to her feet. 'Come on—stop pretending to be a music snob, and come and dance.'

'I'm not a snob—I just have taste!' Eris protested. 'Anyway, I'm waiting for Weylin to bring me a drink.'

'Well, I was waiting for Alice to bring me one too. They can either come and find us, or they can keep each other company over here.' Issie cast her eyes over to the drinks table, where she had last seen them, but there was no sign of either of them. 'I think they've got lost anyway. So are you coming, or are you staying here by yourself?'

Eris scowled. 'Merlin. I thought you didn't even want to come to the ball, Malfoy.'

Issie grinned. Titus always called her Malfoy as a jokey habit, but Eris only did it when she was on the defensive, which meant that Issie was winning.

'Well, I didn't, really, but now I'm here, I'm not going to sit and be bored in the corner, and neither are you. Come on, _Montague_ —we're going to groove to the Weird Sisters.'

She pulled Eris up by the elbow, and steered her towards the others. Maybe, after all, in the company of her friends instead of some awkward boy she hardly knew, this party could even be some fun.

* * *

Felicity perched on top of the toilet, the lid closed, a furrow in her brow as she scribbled furiously.

 _I'm writing this in the toilets. All the others are asleep, and I should be too, but I can't let Beatrice find out about my diary. I know she'd read it and it's got all my most secret things in it. Beatrice hates me now. I thought she did before, but now it's worse, ever since I said I didn't want to be friends with her. Yesterday she put frogspawn in my bed. _

_But I don't care because the day after tomorrow I'm going home! I'm going to see Mum and Nan, and I don't have to see Beatrice or Thalia or any of the others for two whole weeks! I feel so excited I might be sick, like the night before my birthday or something._

 _I need to buy a lot of new pens at home because this is my last biro and I think it's going to run out soon. They only have quills here, and I use those in lessons to save my pens but they're way harder to write with. It's so stupid, I don't know why they don't just have pens._

 _At least there's no risk I'm going to get caught out of bed by a prefect tonight—they're all at some Christmas ball. I like Hogwarts best like this—when it's all empty and there's nobody except me. Nobody really uses these toilets I don't think, so they're a good place to hide. I'm getting good at finding hiding places. Sometimes Addy comes with me and hides too, but I think she's asleep._

She paused, lifting her eyes from the page as she considered what to write next, and almost jumped out of her skin. Through the open door of the cubicle she was in, a girl was watching her. Except that _girl_ wasn't really the right word. She was sitting cross-legged in mid-air, and she was pale grey and semi-transparent. Felicity took a deep breath. She'd got used to ghosts. There were plenty of them at Hogwarts, and she'd learnt that they weren't anything to be scared of. This, though, wasn't one she'd seen before.

'Who… who are you?' she asked, clutching her diary to her chest.

To her surprise and dismay, the ghost girl's eyes filled with tears.

' _Nobody_ remembers me,' she said. 'Nobody knows who I am. They all remember all those people who died in that silly battle, but nobody remembers Myrtle!'

'I'm sorry,' Felicity said, hastily. What was she meant to say to a crying ghost? 'I… it's probably just me, you know. I'm Muggleborn, and I only started this year—I don't know anything! Are you… is Myrtle your name?'

The girl sniffed, but seemed slightly comforted.

'Yes, of course it is. Who are _you?_ ' She moved closer to Felicity, moving through the air without uncrossing her legs.

Felicity resisted the urge to lean backwards. 'I'm… I'm Felicity.'

'Felicity.' Myrtle didn't sound impressed. 'Do you know who used to come in here and talk to me? _Harry Potter_.' She giggled, an unexpected sound. 'He was very sweet. I think he _liked_ me.'

'Oh. Wow.' Even Felicity knew who Harry Potter was. But… 'Why would Harry Potter come in here? This is the girls' toilets.'

Myrtle's eyes slid sideways behind her glasses. 'Not supposed to tell,' she muttered.

Felicity tiled her head to one side. She was curious now.

'Not supposed to tell what?'

Myrtle swooped away out of the cubicle, with a gurgling noise.

'Secrets!' she called from outside. 'Can't tell you!'

Felicity scrambled off the toilet, and followed the ghost out. Myrtle was hovering up near the ceiling, by some pipes. She should probably go back to the common room and go to bed, before anyone checked on them and realised she wasn't there. She wasn't sure what time it was, or how much longer the ball would be going on for. But secrets had always intrigued Felicity. For a moment, she stared at Myrtle, thinking hard, then she smiled in as friendly a way as she could.

'I bet you must know loads of secrets,' she said. 'How long have you been here? In Hogwarts, I mean.'

Myrtle floated a little closer again.

'I know more secrets than anyone.' she said, smugly. 'Nobody ever thinks I know anything, but they should hear what I could tell if I wanted to.'

'Really?' Felicity widened her eyes. She felt a tiny bit guilty for trying to manipulate secrets out of Myrtle, but it wasn't as if she was lying, or just _pretending_ to be interested. 'Like what?'

Myrtle's eyes narrowed. 'I'm not supposed to tell,' she repeated, but she came closer still, leaning towards Felicity. ' _But I know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is._ '

The Chamber of Secrets. Felicity had heard of that too, and vaguely knew the story about it. In fact, she thought whoever had told her the story had mentioned that the entrance was in a bathroom, so she wasn't sure how much of a big secret it was. But Myrtle was clearly expecting her to be impressed, so Felicity put an impressed expression on her face.

'Wow, you do?' she said. 'Is it _here?_ '

She looked around them. There was no obvious place that could be an entrance. But the monster from the Chamber was supposed to have been killed by Harry Potter, so it would explain what he'd been doing in here.

Myrtle giggled. 'It's _somewhere_. But you can't get in. Nobody can get in. Only if you can talk to the snake.' She laughed again, seeming delighted by the impossible challenge.

But Felicity was rooted to the spot, her heart suddenly racing. _Talk to the snakes?_ But she was the only one, wasn't she? That was _her_ skill, the one thing she could do that nobody else could. Did Myrtle _know?_ Was this somehow her way of telling Felicity that she knew her secret?

No. Myrtle was humming to herself up by the pipes. She had no idea.

Could it be true? Did Felicity hold the key to getting into the famous chamber? She'd had no interest in it before now, but it would be amazing if she _could._ If she, a Muggleborn in the house of Purebloods, was the person who could unlock this secret.

But what snake did Myrtle mean? There was no real snake in here, or anywhere inside the castle.

'What snake?' she demanded.

Myrtle looked down at her.

'See, I told you I knew more than anyone. Nobody knows about the snake. You haven't noticed it, even though it's right in front of you.'

Right in front of her. Felicity stared straight ahead, but there was only the sink. She stepped up to it, and examined it. There was no sign of any snake.

Myrtle giggled.

'You're warm!' she said, in a sing-song voice. 'Warm, but not quite hot yet!'

Felicity glanced to either side of her. There was a whole row of sinks against the wall. She moved sideways towards the next one.

'Colder!' Myrtle sang out delightedly.

Felicity stepped the other way. She wasn't sure what she was doing, playing _Hot or Cold_ with a ghost, to find an entrance that might or might not be here, depending on whether Myrtle was lying or not. But as she reached the next sink, and Myrtle called, ' _Hot!_ You're _boiling!_ ', Felicity saw it. The little shape of a snake carved into the side of one of the taps.

'I've got it!' she said triumphantly, bending down to it.

Myrtle giggled. 'Clever, clever! But not clever enough to know how to open it! Not like Harry Potter.'

Felicity was hardly listening any more. She reached out a finger, and touched the snake. Was it her imagination, or had it moved?

 _'Can you hear me?'_ she whispered, in the snake language.

From behind her, Myrtle's voice rose.

'What are you doing? What are you saying? Stop it, you're not _allowed…_ '

Felicity took no notice. The snake was definitely moving now. Her heart beat almost painfully against her ribs. But what should she say to reveal the entrance? Was there some sort of password? Or was it all just a stupid story?

 _'Do you... Can you open for me?_ ' she asked.

And as she said the word 'open', there was a click and a shift, and a hissing sound. Felicity jerked backwards as the sink moved, dropping smoothly away into the ground. And behind it, in the space revealed, was a big, dark hole.

Felicity stared into it. Could she...? Did she even want to? She leaned forwards, peering into it. It was hard to see much, but the hole seemed to lead downwards. It was very cold inside, with a breeze blowing upwards into her face, smelling of damp and something rotten. Felicity shivered and drew back. She wasn't going down there by herself, no way. But she'd done it. She'd found the Chamber of Secrets.


	13. Christmas Cheer

'Seriously?' Danny folded his arms and glared at Scorpius. 'I bare my soul to you, and you laugh at me?'

Scorpius rolled his eyes. 'I'm not laughing, and you're being overdramatic. As far as I can tell from what you just told me, nothing even happened, except that you did something nice for her and she didn't stab your eyes out, which, given that we're talking about Rose Weasley here, I'd say is a pretty positive sign.'

'Really fucking helpful,' Danny told him, flinging himself down on Scorpius's couch.

'Well, what d'you want me to say?' Scorpius demanded. 'I mean, Merlin, you could have chosen a less terrifying person to start fancying, but…' He dodged the cushion Danny threw at him and went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. 'But if you do like her, then maybe it's not a bad thing that you practically told her. Not like she reacted too badly, did she? So it could have been worse.'

Danny covered his eyes with a hand and groaned. 'Yeah, but what kind of dick waits until someone's in fucking traumatised shock, then swoops in to take advantage while they're down?'

'A total dick,' Scorpius told him. 'So it's good you didn't do that, isn't it? Because if that's what you call taking advantage, then I think you're…'

'But that's what she's going to think, isn't it?' Danny interrupted. 'And I don't want to be the guy who's nice to a girl, then tells her he fancies her, and expects her to like him back out of… out of gratitude or whatever. I wasn't even going to say anything to her. I mean, I _didn't_ say anything, not really—but I know she guessed what I was thinking.'

Scorpius sighed. 'Okay, so, first of all, I really don't think Weasley is the type of person who likes people back out of gratitude. Second of all, if you actually want to do something about this, you should be telling her this stuff, not me. And third, it's Christmas Eve, and my family is expecting me for dinner. Just go and fucking ask her out if that's what you want.' He paused for a moment. The idea of Danny actually going out with Rose Weasley was so bizarre, it was hard to get his head around. 'I have no idea what she'd say,' he added at last. 'But there's only one way to find out.'

Danny sighed. 'She's not the kind of person you just _ask out_. And she's made it pretty clear she can't stand me when things are normal. But okay, okay, point taken,' he went on, as Scorpius gave him an exasperated glare. 'I'm leaving. Have a good Christmas.'

He got up again and grabbed his jacket.

'Cheers. You too. And good luck with the whole thing,' Scorpius said, feeling slightly bad for throwing Danny out. 'I mean, I hope it works out, one way or another.'

'You're coming out on Boxing Day, by the way,' Danny told him, halfway out of the door. 'Two evenings in a row with my parents is plenty, so I'll need an excuse to be somewhere else.'

Once he'd gone, Scorpius picked up the bag he'd packed for a few days at his own parents' and glanced over at the cat, which was glaring at him from the arm of the sofa.

'Look, I've left you food and water,' he said. 'And you can come and go when you want, and I'll be coming back to feed you again tomorrow.'

Its only response was an angry swish of the tail, and he scowled at it.

'You don't even technically live here!' he told it, and stepped hurriedly into the fire.

His parents' living room was decorated for Christmas, with a large tree in the window and garlands hung around. Nobody was there, but voices and clattering of dishes came from elsewhere in the house, so he dropped his bag on a chair and headed for the door.

'Hello! Where is everyone?' he called as he came out into the hallway.

'Scorp!' The dining room door was flung open, and Issie appeared, grinning broadly, and threw her arms around him. 'You're here!'

'Hey, you.' He hugged her back and ruffled her short, dark hair as he pulled back to look at her. 'Good term?'

'Yeah.' She looked slightly thoughtful. 'Weird term in some ways. But pretty good.'

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Weird in ways I'm going to get to hear about?'

Issie grinned. 'If you're that interested. Didn't know you were into school gossip these days, though.'

'Oh, _that_ sort of weird. Well, I'm interested if it's dirt on you, but less so otherwise,' he said, laughing at her.

'There's never any dirt on me, I make sure of that,' she told him. 'By the way, don't groan too loudly, but Grandma and Grandpa are coming for dinner.'

'What?' Scorpius groaned anyway. ' _Why_? I only just got here!'

'Well, they're coming here tonight instead of us going to them tomorrow—Mum negotiated it. So it could be worse.'

'Well, that explains the outfit, anyway' Scorpius said, looking down at the neat, navy blue dress and dark tights she was wearing in place of her usual jeans and trainers.

Issie stuck her tongue out at him, but before she could reply, their mother came down the stairs.

'Hello, love. I'm glad you could make it in time.'

Her last words were drowned out by thundering footsteps on the stairs behind her, and an excited yell, as Caelum flung himself into Scorpius's arms.

'Hey, Mum. Hey, Monster. Where's Dad?'

'Cooking,' his mother said. 'Your sister was talking about, what was it, Issie? 'Unequally gendered household chores', or something. He seemed to take it as a personal affront, and we've all been banished from the kitchen.'

'I wasn't even talking specifically about him,' Issie said, calmly. 'It's not my fault if he recognised himself.'

Scorpius grinned at Issie. 'Well, you're not wrong, but I'll pay you to talk more about unequally gendered household chores when Grandma and Grandpa get here.'

'And talking of that, is the table laid yet?' their mum asked Issie.

'Nope, but it will be in about five minutes. Come on, Caelum, you're on spoons!'

Caelum wriggled out of Scorpius's arms, and Scorpius laughed as he watched his brother and sister disappear into the dining room. He kissed his mother on the cheek, and she gave him a slightly harassed smile.

'Sorry to do this the first evening of your holiday, Scorpius. But they're going to be here in about ten minutes, and…' She gestured apologetically at his clothes, which consisted of trousers that could probably do with a wash, and the same jumper that had offended Calypso's tastes the other week.

Scorpius sighed. 'I'll go and get changed.'

He heard his grandparents arrive in the living room as he came downstairs again—he refused to wear robes just for dinner at his parents', but he'd put on a smart shirt and clean trousers—and stuck his head into the dining room, where Issie and Caelum were enacting a dramatic duel with a pair of spoons.

'Oi, they're here,' he said, and withdrew, pasting a smile onto his face as he walked into the living room.

'Scorpius!' his grandmother exclaimed, as soon as she saw him. 'It's been far too long since we've seen you.'

She swept in on him, embraced him briefly, then moved swiftly on to Issie and Caelum, who had come in behind him. Scorpius was left to shake hands with his grandfather.

'Good to see you here for once, Scorpius,' his grandfather said. 'Your parents keep telling us how busy you are with work. I'm glad your career seems to be taking off at last—you'll have to tell us all about it. Your father's been very vague about what it is you're actually doing.'

'Yeah, it's been pretty full-on,' Scorpius said, as casually as he could. 'But I've got a few days off now.'

He had no real intention of telling his grandfather much about what he was doing. He'd have given a lot to know whether Lucius Malfoy had any involvement or connection with the League, but part of him also didn't want to know, and he certainly didn't dare to ask. The thought made him feel slightly sick—especially since Jasper Parker's death the other week. Scorpius had never liked Parker that much, but still. They'd shared a common room for six years, and a Quidditch team for three. Now Parker was dead. Surely Scorpius's own grandfather couldn't have any part in the organisation that had killed him?

Behind him, he heard his grandmother, having greeted Caelum with fond hugs and kisses, starting in on her usual crusade with Issie.

'My dear, I wish you'd grow your hair a little longer. It was different when you were a child, but now you're older…'

Scorpius turned around in time to see Issie smile brightly at their grandmother.

'Well, maybe I will, Grandma—you never know,' she said.

Scorpius hid a grin. Issie considered her hair too long if it was touching her shoulders, and he didn't think she had any intention of doing what Grandma suggested. He suspected that his grandmother knew it too, although she made no sign of it.

'Well, I think it would look very nice a little longer,' Grandma said. 'And perhaps, while you're at it, a bit more attention to your wardrobe?'

Issie's smile grew more fixed, and their mother cleared her throat.

'Dinner's just ready, I think. Shall we go through?'

'So, you're growing your hair now?' Scorpius murmured to Issie, with a smirk, as he passed her.

She flipped him off silently and marched out of the room.

'I hear you had a Yule Ball at school this term, Iseult?' their grandmother said, as the meal got underway.

'Yes,' Issie said, neutrally, putting a forkful of food in her mouth and chewing slowly.

Their grandmother raised her eyebrows.

'And may I ask who you attended with?'

Issie sighed, and Scorpius could sense her patience slipping. He sympathised; it was only a matter of time before they started in on him too, although they'd backed off about his relationships recently. Grandpa had hit the roof about the very public rumours regarding Scorpius and Lily, but, since those rumours had proved to be nothing, the topic of a girlfriend had been quietly dropped. Maybe they were so relieved that they'd decided anybody or nobody would be better than a Potter, or maybe, he thought with amusement, they were worried that if they pushed too hard, he'd go and get together with Lily out of spite. His career was still fair game, though, and he knew his grandfather wouldn't let the matter drop.

'I just went with my friends, Grandma,' Issie said, when she'd swallowed her mouthful. 'Nobody special.'

Their grandmother sniffed. 'Oh, you mean that Longbottom girl, and the boy—what's his name?'

'His name's Jake. But no, actually, he went with his girlfriend, so I was there with Alice and some of the others.' She still managed to sound more or less polite, but Scorpius could tell that she was losing the battle with her temper. She usually did if they got onto the topic of her friends.

'Oh, he's got a girlfriend?' There was only the faintest hint of significant inflection in their grandmother's voice, and her face showed nothing as she continued to eat.

However, their grandfather took up the cudgels. 'Well, that's a relief,' he remarked.

Issie's fork dropped onto her plate with a clatter. ' _Why_ is it a relief? Because, if he's got a girlfriend, he can't start going out with _me_ , is that what you mean?'

'Issie, please,' their mother said.

Their grandfather fixed Issie with a grim look. 'Do not take that tone with me, young lady. I have great concerns about the people you've chosen to be friends with, and you know it.'

'What concerns?' Issie demanded. 'I mean, what concerns you about _Jake_ specifically, Grandpa?'

Their grandfather's eyes hardened, but their grandmother laid a hand on his arm.

'Lucius,' she said, warningly.

'No, Grandma, I want to hear him say it,' Issie said. 'I want to know what he's got against Jake…'

'Iseult, that's enough,' Dad broke in.

She turned a fierce glare on him, but he frowned at her.

'No, I mean it. I would like to enjoy my dinner without you picking arguments, especially in front of your little brother. And Mum, Dad, enough of the inquisition, please. Issie's choice of friends is her own, and Astoria and I have no problem with any of them. That's all there is to say on the matter.'

Lucius Malfoy looked thunderous, and for a moment, Scorpius thought he wasn't going to let it drop. But his wife's hand was still on his arm, and that seemed to be enough to restrain him. He gave her a glance, then pressed his lips together. There was a tense pause. Caelum stared from face to face, his eyes wide, then Issie gave her father a brief nod, some sort of understanding passing between them.

Their grandmother spoke, breaking the silence. 'Scorpius, why don't you tell us what's been going on in your life? Have you thought any more about letting us help you move out of that room you're staying in?'

Scorpius sighed, and rallied his usual polite answers. At least if they were worrying about his life, they weren't bothering Issie about her Gryffindor friends or her appearance, and he supposed he had it easier than her, since their concerns about Scorpius weren't quite as blatantly offensive. Sometimes, though, he wished he had Issie's courage to let his anger show.

* * *

Christmas morning at the Burrow had changed in only small ways over the previous twenty years. There were too many of them to stay in the house, but Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey had always preferred to stay at home and come over for the day, and Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur usually did the same, when they weren't visiting Aunt Fleur's family in France. Some of the older cousins had started to split off and do their own thing now too; Teddy and Victoire would have their own Christmas morning with Jess, before coming over in time for family gifts and lunch. Dominique was in the Caribbean with some friends, and James had gone with Hazel to her parents' the night before, and would also be over later in the day.

Rose, however, had slept sprawled on a camp bed in Aunt Ginny's old room, with Roxy on another one, since they'd allowed Lily to take the bed. She woke before the other two, and lay for a while, staring across at them. They all took up more space than they used to, but otherwise it was a scene that took her straight back to childhood. Sometimes Molly had joined them too, and two of them had slept top-and-tail in the bed, since there was no room for a third camp bed on the floor.

She checked her watch—the same watch Urquhart had returned to her a couple of weeks ago. It was seven am, which was late for Rose, but the other two might sleep for hours yet. Rose had taken the bed nearest the door for that exact reason, so she pushed herself up, grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. At least there would be no queue at this time in the morning.

Emerging quarter of an hour later, showered and dressed, quiet sounds floating up the stairs told her that she wasn't the only person up. In the kitchen, Grandma was stoking up the range, which had died down overnight. The only other person in the room was Uncle Harry, standing by the window and flipping through a _Daily Prophet_ several days old.

'Happy Christmas!' Rose said as she came in.

'Hello, love! Merry Christmas.' Grandma turned around as Rose paused beside her. 'How did you sleep?'

'Like a log,' Rose said, cheerfully. 'Lily didn't even snore.'

They'd all been treating her as if she was more fragile than usual since that day in the warehouse, and it was irritating, but she wasn't going to let it spoil Christmas. Her parents had more or less calmed down about it, but Grandma was always going to worry.

'Merry Christmas, Rosie.' Uncle Harry looked up from the paper, smiling. 'Not taking the chance for a lie-in?'

'I was awake, so it was either get up or lie and stare at the ceiling,' Rose said, with a shrug.

'Well, since you're here, you can make yourself useful. Beat these eggs,' Grandma said, passing her the eggs and a bowl. 'Harry, dear, can you start getting some plates out? It'll be first come, first served, but I imagine they'll all start appearing once they smell breakfast. And don't worry, Rose—I've got vegetarian sausages as well as ordinary ones, and I'm doing them in a separate pan.'

She went back to the stove, and they got on with their respective jobs. Rose, cracking eggs into the bowl, felt Uncle Harry's eyes on her. She glanced up and gave him a small smile. He hadn't fussed over her, not after the afternoon when it had happened, but she knew he was concerned anyway.

'I'm fine, you know,' she said, answering the question he hadn't asked. 'I mean, it was awful, and I don't think I'll ever forget it, but I can cope.'

'I know you can,' he said quietly. 'If we didn't think you could, you wouldn't have been accepted to the programme. But that sort of thing always knocks you, even when you've been through it before. It's certainly not the sort of situation we'd choose to send a trainee into.'

It wasn't really a good conversation for Christmas morning, but it was the first time she'd had a chance to talk to him alone and outside the department, as Uncle Harry rather than as her boss. 'Did someone talk to Parker's mum?' she asked, trying to make the question sound casual, even though he'd know it wasn't.

'They did. And we're trying to work with her to find out what Parker was up to and why he was killed, but either she's covering something up, or she really doesn't know much. By the way, it's possible she might want to talk to you. It's entirely up to you, of course…'

'Talk to me?' Rose stared at him.

'Well, your name wasn't mentioned, but she was told that there was an Auror with her son when he died. She may ask who it was at some point, and she could have questions for you.'

Rose nodded, frowning. She didn't particularly want to talk to Parker's mum, but it would be the decent thing to do, wouldn't it?

'Okay,' she said. 'I'll talk to her, if she asks. There's not much to tell, though. He tried to give me a message for her, but he never managed to finish it.'

'Just knowing that might be enough for her,' Uncle Harry said. 'Knowing that he was thinking about her, you know?'

Rose nodded, finding it difficult to talk about, even now. 'I wish I knew what else he was trying to tell me,' she said. 'It was something about why he was there, I know it was. About why he'd argued with them or whatever.'

'Well, we've still got our Mr Rowle in custody—which is thanks to you stunning him,' he pointed out. 'Getting him to tell us anything is another matter, but it's a start. We've got enough to charge him with accessory to manslaughter, at the very least, and I'm hoping that once he realises that there's no way he's not going to prison, he might be a bit more willing to help us out in the hopes of a lesser sentence.

'Oh, and a bit of news I only got the other day, so I haven't had a chance to tell you yet,' he added. 'I've got the translation of that bit of Parseltongue you found in Millicent Bulstrode's house.'

Rose perked up, forgetting the eggs she was meant to be preparing. 'Really? What did it say? That took long enough to get a translation, didn't it?'

'Well, the number of people who can read the language are few and far between; I had to get it sent to a research office in Spain. I think this is the first time I've ever wished I hadn't lost the ability to understand it. Anyway, I'm afraid it's no great revelation—only another mystery. It said, ' _There will be two_ ', and that was all.'

' _There will be two?_ ' Rose repeated. 'What the hell does that mean?'

'At the moment, your guess is as good as mine. So, if you _have_ a guess at any point, let me know.'

Rose sighed, disappointed. Of course, it had only been a small scrap of parchment. It would have been more surprising if it had been a clear, full message. But still.

'It could mean anything. Or nothing. It might not even be connected to the case.'

'True. Although the fact that it was there, written in Parseltongue, is enough to make it a lead, at least. As I say, the people who speak Parseltongue are very rare—and it must have been written by one of them. Whether that's one of the Bulstrodes or not, it's someone who has a connection. Anyway, I'm going into the office tomorrow. It would be nice to think that even the League might be too busy celebrating Christmas to make any trouble, but I'm not counting on it.'

'Can I come?' Rose asked.

It wasn't exactly that she didn't want Boxing Day off—just that she couldn't stop thinking about the case, and if there were any developments, she wanted to know.

He looked amused. 'Rose, you're as bad as your mother for not knowing when to stop working. You're on holiday—so make the most of it, because next Christmas you'll be fully qualified, so you could be on call. Tell you what, if there's anything interesting happening, I'll call you in. Okay?'

Rose pulled a face, more an automatic reaction to the comparison with her mum than anything, but before she could reply, there was a clatter of feet on the stairs, and Hugo burst into the room in his pyjamas. From upstairs came the sound of more people moving around.

'Happy Christmas, everyone!' Hugo announced loudly, and leaned over to sniff the pan Grandma had set on the stove.. 'Mm, bacon!'

'If you want some, you can lend a hand,' Grandma said, putting a spatula into his hand. 'Don't let it burn.'

Uncle Harry cast a quick, meaningful look at Rose, and she nodded, understanding what he was saying. Any conversation about work was over for today.

Much later, when presents were opened and dinner was over, and everyone was lounging around the house in varying stages of Christmas afternoon laziness—ranging from Grandma, who was asleep in the most comfortable armchair, to three-year-old Jessica Lupin, who was pestering James to take her outside and let her have a go on his broom—Lily came and joined Rose on the sofa. For a few moments, she didn't speak, and Rose looked at her thoughtfully. If any member of the family was currently somewhat fragile, it was Lily, not Rose. Lily had never taken life very seriously, but ever since the summer, there had been something sad lurking at the back of her eyes.

Currently, however, there was no sadness, just a mischievous smile playing around her mouth. Lily leaned towards Rose.

'So,' she murmured. 'You and Danny Urquhart?'

It was with long-practised self-control that Rose didn't react, except to fix Lily with her deadliest glare. _Fuck_. Could she lie her way out of it? No, Lily clearly knew too much. The problem with Lily was that she was never quite as oblivious as she seemed. The other problem was that she was terrible with secrets. Just like a certain other person, who had to be responsible for this.

'I am going to fucking _kill_ Scorpius Malfoy,' Rose said, in a vicious whisper.

Lily grinned. 'Well, don't do it too painfully; it wasn't really his fault. I kind of forced it out of him, and he didn't even tell me that much.'

Rose narrowed her eyes and glanced around to check that none of the rest of the family—most crucially, James, Hugo, or Rose's parents—were close enough to be listening to their whispers.

'How would you know there was anything to force? And what did he tell you?'

'I saw him leaving your place.' Lily shrugged. 'You know, that day when you… Well, you know. Dad told me what had happened, so I was coming over to check you were okay, and he was just coming out. Danny, I mean.'

Rose gritted her teeth. She'd _known_ letting him in was a bad idea, and look how right she'd turned out to be.

'Since when are you on first name terms with him?'

Lily looked surprised. 'For a while. I mean, I hang out with Scorpius, and I used to hang out with him more a few years ago. Danny's one of his best friends—I wasn't going to keep calling him Urquhart. Especially since he kept telling me I was pronouncing it wrong. Danny's easier to say.'

'Well, you are pronouncing it wrong,' Rose couldn't help pointing out, then she broke off and stared at Lily with a horrible suspicion. 'Hold on. Please tell me you've never… I mean, you and him…'

Lily had dated and slept with a lot of different guys, and Rose didn't even pretend to keep track of her cousin's love life—if you could call Lily's string of casual flings a love life. And one-night stands were a normal part of her life in a way that they weren't a part of Rose's. But surely, she couldn't have. Surely Rose would know?

Lily blinked, then laughed, in an entirely unforced way. 'Merlin, no! Nothing like that, I promise. D'you like him then? I mean, are you guys…?'

'I am not talking about this here,' Rose said, through gritted teeth. Damn it, there was no need to feel quite this relieved that he and Lily had never slept together. 'And no, whatever you're asking, we're not.'

'Okay, okay.' Lily tilted her head to one side. 'But you know, he's not that bad. I mean, I know you hated him all the way through school or whatever, but he's actually a pretty nice guy, I'm just saying. You could give him a chance.'

'If you say so,' Rose retorted, then hesitated, feeling a small sting of guilt. Truth was, Lily was right, but admitting that out loud would be a huge climb-down. 'Anyway,' she went on, before Lily could speak again, 'nice or not, he's a pain in the neck. And now this conversation is over.'

* * *

Issie had found that, on the whole, putting up with her grandparents for an entire evening was a decent trade-off for being free of them for the whole of Christmas Day. It wasn't that she hated them—although she had to admit that it came close, when Grandpa starting to come out with his pureblood bullshit—but the older she got, the harder work they were. She wondered whether there would come a time when they'd be as heavily critical of Caelum as they were of her and Scorpius; it hadn't been as bad when she'd been younger. But Grandma, at least, had a definite soft spot for Cae, so maybe he'd get away with it.

Boxing Day felt like an anti-climax, as it always did. Issie came downstairs late and found that everyone else had already had breakfast. Caelum was playing with his new toys in the living room, and she could hear Mum in there too. Issie helped herself to a bowl of cereal and some orange juice, and sat down in the kitchen, gazing dolefully at the rain coming down outside. She'd been going to go for a fly, but she didn't fancy it so much in this weather. Then again, she didn't fancy being cooped up all day in the house with Caelum, who would soon be bouncing off the walls if he couldn't go outside.

A message arrived on her Communicator, and she picked it up eagerly, hoping it was Alice or Jake proposing some plan for the day. It wasn't—it was Eris Montague.

 _'Hey, you busy?_ ' it said.

Issie frowned at it. She and Eris didn't usually exchange much in the way of casual messages. Was she just being friendly—and she _had_ been more friendly than usual this year—or was something the matter?

Issie pressed her wand to the Communicator and lifted it to her mouth.

'No, not really,' she said into it. 'Why?'

The reply came back swiftly.

 _'Listen, d'you want to meet up? I need to talk.'_

Well, that was weird. Eris needed to talk? To Issie specifically, or just in general? A small amount of worry needled Issie, and she hoped that Eris was okay. But if she wasn't okay, surely there would be other people she'd turn to before she came to Issie?

'Okay, sure,' she said, cautiously. At least it would be a reason to leave the house. 'You want to meet in the Leaky?'

Neither of them had Apparition licenses yet, although they'd both been taking lessons, but the Leaky Cauldron was easy to Floo to.

 _'Yeah, how soon can you be there?'_ the answer came.

Issie frowned, her puzzlement starting to turn to alarm. What was the matter with Eris? She hastily swallowed another mouthful.

'Fifteen minutes?' she suggested.

It was possible—maybe even likely—that Eris was being dramatic over nothing, Issie reflected a few minutes later, as she pulled on her jeans. That had certainly happened before. But Eris messaging Issie at ten am requesting an immediate meet-up was not something that had happened before, and that was enough to be worrying.

She found her mum still in the living room with Caelum.

'Hey, I'm just going to meet Eris,' Issie said casually, as if it was something she did all the time.

Her mum raised her eyebrows. 'Eris Montague? I didn't know you two were such good friends.'

Issie shrugged. 'We've been kind of friends for years now, Mum. And we've been talking more this term. I'll be back for lunch—is that okay?'

'Yes, that's fine, love. We'll see you later,' her mother said, although she gave Issie a somewhat thoughtful look.

The Leaky Cauldron was busy enough that Issie couldn't help wondering why people didn't have better places to be the day after Christmas. However, after a quick glance around, she spotted Eris sitting alone in a corner booth, and pushed her way over.

'Hey, are you okay?' she said, by way of greeting, sliding into a seat opposite Eris.

Eris didn't look very different from normal. Her casual bun looked as if it had been carelessly pulled up, but Eris was never careless with her appearance, and she also had a full face of make-up on. As opposed to Issie, who had washed her face, pulled a brush through her hair and left it at that.

'I'm fine,' Eris said with a shrug. 'I just…'

She trailed off, and Issie peered carefully at her. Under the make-up, now that she looked closer, Eris was paler than usual, and there were shadows beneath her eyes.

'Just what?' Issie said, when Eris didn't continue. 'What's going on?'

'You're good at healing spells, right?' Eris asked, abruptly. 'I mean, last year, when MacMillan fell off her broom in Quidditch practise and sliced her knee open, I heard you sealed it up, and Madam Booth didn't even have to redo it.'

Issie stared at her in alarm.

'Eris, I know how to patch up a cut, that's all. What have you done? Are you hurt?'

Eris laughed—at least, Issie thought it was meant to be a laugh. It sounded almost as much like a sob, though.

'No, I… Well, yes, sort of.'

She brought her hands up from her lap onto the table, and Issie saw that she was wearing a pair of green, woollen gloves. Eris glanced around her, then, very carefully, she pulled off the right one, and Issie gave a hiss of shock and dismay.

'Eris!'

She stretched out a hand, though she stopped short before touching. Eris's knuckles were grossly swollen and discoloured, vivid green and purple bruising spreading across them.

'What the fuck happened?' Issie demanded. 'Did you punch a wall or something?'

The corner of Eris's mouth twisted. 'No, I punched Searle Nott's face.'

'You _what?'_ Issie said. 'Are you serious?'

'He fucking deserved it!' Eris said, with sudden heat. 'I should have gone for my wand, though. I don't know why I didn't—I wasn't even thinking. I just wanted to hurt him.' She met Issie's eyes, and calmed her voice, though it still shook. 'He was hurting her. Cora. I thought he might have been before, but she said he wasn't. Then I went over there last night. I was angry with her because she was meant to come for Christmas, only then she said at the last minute that she wasn't coming, so I went over to find out why the hell not. And he was there. They must have been arguing; I don't know what about, but he was twisting her arm, and I… I just lost it. I've never done that before.'

Issie stared at her, appalled. 'Merlin, Eris. Holy shit. What did you do? Did you hurt him? And what about Sycorax—is she okay?'

Eris swallowed. 'I surprised him, so I managed to get a punch in. I think I hurt my hand as much as I hurt his face, though. Turns out I don't know how to punch properly, but I did make his nose bleed. I thought he was going to attack me, but Cora screamed at him, and… and I s'pose he realised what we could tell people. So he just stormed out. And then Cora started yelling at me, like it was me who'd done something wrong. I don't fucking get what's going on in her head! I mean, he was _hurting_ her, what was I meant to do?'

'Well, like you said, it probably would have been better if you'd used your wand, not your fist,' Issie said, trying to keep her voice steady. 'But I don't blame you for going for him. Bloody hell, Eris. I hope you broke his nose!'

Eris let out a shaky laugh. 'I don't think I did, but I wish I had. Cora wouldn't let me stay—she practically pushed me back into the fire, so I messaged Desdemona and asked her to go round. I thought my hand would be better by this morning, but it's worse, and now I'm thinking I might have broken something. And I can't tell Mum and Dad, because I'd have to tell them what happened…'

'Can I see?' Issie asked, holding her hand out, palm up, towards Eris.

Eris hesitated for a moment, then placed her injured hand into Issie's. It was hot and puffy. Issie turned it very slightly, being as gentle as she could, but Eris still let out a hiss of breath.

'Ow. Fucking hell.'

'Eris, I can't fix this,' Issie said, shaking her head. 'You didn't honestly think I could, did you? If you've broken bones in your hand, you need to go to St Mungo's. I'll come with you, if you want,' she added. It would mean she wouldn't be back for lunch after all, but Mum and Dad wouldn't mind, so long as she let them know.

'No, you don't get it. I can't tell anyone what happened,' Eris insisted.

'You've got to tell people!' Issie said, exasperated. 'I mean, Merlin, you need to report him! That's abuse, what he was doing to your sister.'

'Cora said she'd kill me if I told anyone,' Eris said, flatly. 'And she already hates me enough. Anyway, what I did to him is assault, isn't it?'

'You were defending her. Nobody's going to blame you for hitting him.'

'I'm not reporting it, Issie!' Eris said. 'It wouldn't matter anyway, would it? She'd only lie again and say it never happened, so nobody would believe me.'

Issie bit her lip. She thought Eris was wrong, but the main thing was to persuade her to go to the hospital. The other conversation could happen later.

'Okay, fine. You don't need to tell anyone, but you can still come with me to St Mungo's. The healers aren't going to make you tell them anything, and whatever you do tell them is confidential. You have to let them look at it and set the bones. I'm serious. What if they don't set right by themselves, and it leaves your hand all twisted?'

She had no idea how likely that was, but she knew it would work, and it did. Eris swallowed.

'Okay. I'll go.'


	14. Fireworks

**A new chapter. At last. In my defence, I've moved job and country since the last update. But I'm so sorry for (yet again) abandoning this story for so long. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Felicity lay curled on the sofa beside Nan, a fluffy blanket wrapped around her, blinking sleepily and feeling herself drift away to the music coming from the TV. It was their New Year tradition and had been for as long as Felicity could remember. No parties—just the three of them, takeaway dinner, a bottle of champagne—Mum had promised her half a glass to herself this year—Hootenanny on the TV, and singing along to Auld Lang Syne, although only Nan knew all the words.

They'd been quiet for a while, though, and Felicity's mind had drifted back—as it kept doing—to her discovery in the girls' toilets at school. She hadn't told Mum or Nan about it. Come to think of it, there was a lot she hadn't told Mum or Nan.

When they went back in January, though, she had plans. Addy had been impossible to persuade down a cold, dark hole, and Felicity hadn't been confident enough herself to go alone. But it was too much of a chance to miss. You couldn't find something like that and then not go inside, could you? Gryffindors, Felicity had decided, weren't the only ones who could be brave. Anyway, there was no monster down there anymore; it was dead. She would convince Addy with that argument, and they would go. They would find out what was at the bottom of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Used to be you who fell asleep before midnight," Nan commented from beside her, rousing Felicity out of her thoughts.

Felicity sat up and looked over at Mum, who'd nodded off in her chair.

"We'll have to wake her up before the countdown," she said.

Nan smiled. "Yes. For one thing, my old fingers won't get the cork out of the champagne, and I doubt yours will either."

There was a pause, and Felicity curled into Nan's side. Nan stroked her hair lightly.

"That school of yours," she said. "It's all right, is it? You're making friends?"

For a moment, Felicity hesitated. Nan had been to boarding school too. She might understand. But then she looked up at Nan's face, which somehow looked thinner and older than it had in August. Felicity had never thought of Nan as old, but she was. And hearing Felicity's problems would only worry her when there was nothing she could do to help.

Felicity gave a small smile.

"Yeah, it's okay. I told you about my friend, Addy."

"Yes." Nan frowned a little. "She seems an odd one to be a friend of yours. Now, I'm not saying anything against her," she added, as Felicity started to bristle. "It sounds like she needs a friend like you. I'm just thinking of all your friends here, and how you are when you get together. There've been times I've sat down here and thought the roof was going to cave in with all the thumping and laughing and screaming you were all doing. But you say this Addy hardly talks."

There was a silence, as Felicity thought about this. It was true that there was a lot less noise and laughter with Addy. Did she miss that? Maybe. But she missed all sorts of other things more.

"It was never really me doing the screaming," she said at last. "And I like Addy."

"Well, that's the important thing, love. It takes all sorts to make the world, after all. Maybe you should invite her here to stay some time—at Easter, say. D'you think she'd like that?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

The truth was, the thought of bringing anyone from Hogwarts, even Addy, to her home was disturbing. It was mixing two worlds. She doubted that Addy had ever been to a Muggle house before. And she also wasn't sure that Addy's parents would let her come. That made her think about Addy's dad coming out of prison, something else she hadn't told Mum or Nan about. She hoped Addy was okay. Her dad didn't sound like a very nice person.

"Nan," she said, mostly to stop Nan asking any more questions on that topic. "You know when they came and told you and Mum that I'm a witch? Did you already believe in magic? Or did you think they were mad or something?"

Nan chuckled. "Well, love, I'd be a fool not to believe in _something_ after watching you in action all your life. I remember the first time we noticed anything, when you threw a tantrum because you wanted to go back to the beach, and lo and behold, the living room was full of sand. Now _that_ was a shock. Someone coming along and telling us there was an explanation for it all was almost a relief after that."

Felicity giggled. "I wonder how I did that. I couldn't do it now."

"Well, I'm quite glad of that," Nan said, and for a moment they chuckled together.

"Anyway," Nan said, eventually, "you're not the first, if the story's to be believed."

Felicity wriggled herself more upright and stared at Nan.

"What d'you mean? What story?"

"Well, there's not much to it, and I don't know if it's true," Nan said, slowly. "My own grandma told me, a long time ago, and I thought it was nonsense. I thought she made it up—she was good at making up fairy stories. I never even told your mum. Forgot all about it until recently, but I've been thinking about it lately, wondering whether to tell you. I don't suppose it makes much difference to anything."

Felicity wrinkled her brow.

"I don't understand. D'you mean your grandma knew about witches and wizards?"

"She knew something, or she thought she did. She never mentioned magical schools, or any of that malarkey. But she heard it from her dad, and it was his mother who…"

"Who was a witch?" Felicity broke in, with sudden eagerness. "D'you mean a witch like me? Someone who went to Hogwarts?"

Or was Nan talking about the kind of witch people had believed in in the olden days? Most of those hadn't really been witches at all, if Felicity's History of Magic lessons were to be believed. Either way, how had Felicity never heard about it before?

"Well, I don't know enough to say what _sort_ of witch, love. It was all just rumours, really. But it doesn't seem so unlikely now, and I thought you might be interested at least. She'd have been my great-great-grandmother, and my grandma wasn't even sure it was her, or if the stories went even further back. All we know for sure is that she was adopted into the family. My aunt tried to look into it—do some research, that sort of thing. But we're talking a long way back, a hundred years, maybe even a hundred and fifty. People didn't keep proper records of things like adoptions in those days. I can give you my aunt's notes someday, though, if you're ever interested."

Felicity's head was reeling. Interested? Well, she wasn't much interested in dusty old notes that didn't apparently lead anywhere. But the idea that there had been another witch in the family! Well, that changed everything, didn't it? Not that it would mean anything to Beatrice and Thalia, she thought, with a sudden sweep of gloom. They wouldn't care about some old ancestor a hundred years ago, who might possibly have been a witch; they'd still call her names.

But who had she been, that shadowy, adopted girl, who'd become Felicity's great-great-great-great-grandmother? Had she also gone to Hogwarts? It might not change anything for Beatrice and Thalia, but in Felicity's mind, it changed a lot about Hogwarts, thinking that one of her own ancestors might have walked there too. Might even have been in Slytherin, sat in Felicity's common room, maybe even slept in her own dorm.

Might even have known about the chamber under the girls' toilets.

On the TV, the countdown started, and Mum stirred. Nan shook herself out of her reverie.

"Come on! Get the corkscrew, someone! It's going to be 2028!"

"Lord, I must have been asleep," Mum said, through the noise on the TV screen.

She sounded as if she was still asleep, and it was Nan who bustled around for the corkscrew.

Felicity stared at the TV as the seconds ticked away, hardly noticing them, and as the new year began, she was thinking not about the future, but about the distant past.

* * *

Rose stood on a cold street, people pushing past her, and watched the sky along the Thames light up behind the buildings opposite her.

She was not sure why she was here. Fifteen minutes ago, she had been at James's, watching people get messily drunk. She had not exactly been sober herself, but she thought she might have been the least drunk person in the room nonetheless. New Year wasn't her favourite holiday. It seemed so pointless, throwing a huge party to mark an arbitrary date in the calendar. Who cared that 2028 was coming? It was not likely to be dramatically different from 2027. And the way people seemed to find it obligatory to couple up for midnight was just obnoxious.

She had sat there on James's sofa, surrounded by empty beer bottles, as the clock struck twelve, and everyone without a partner grabbed the nearest person, or so it seemed. Rose had carefully arranged herself so that nobody was near enough to attempt it.

And then, while people were still clinking glasses to toast the new year, and Lily was still snogging some boy whose name Rose didn't know, her communicator lit up, and she knew who the message was going to be from before she looked at it, because all her friends and most of her cousins were here.

 _Happy New Year_ , was all it said, and she almost put it back in her pocket and ignored it. But that was unnecessarily rude, wasn't it? It was an entirely innocuous message, the type you might send anyone.

So she sent a quick one back— ** _Same to you_** —and was about to shove the communicator away and get back to the party—uninspiring though it was—when he replied again. Hell. What was he playing at?

 _Are you out?_

 ** _Are you drunk?_**

 _No. Not very. Not yet anyway. Why?_

 ** _You're messaging me._**

 _Right. Sorry. Is that against the rules when we're sober?_

And she had to pause before answering that one, because was it? She kept breaking her own rules, then scrambling to set new ones, until she wasn't sure what they were anymore. Or what they were for. When had she started thinking rules mattered so much anyway?

In the end, she ignored the question:

 ** _What are you up to? Celebrating?_**

 _Kind of. New Year's always shit though._

Maybe it was because he'd echoed her thoughts about the holiday. Maybe it was because the fact that he'd sent the message moments after the bells went meant that he hadn't spent his New Year kissing anyone either. Maybe she just wanted to escape the party. But somehow, she found herself enquiring where he was, and when he asked, " _Are you anywhere near?"_ she answered, **_"No. But there's a thing called Apparition."_**

And there she was, ten minutes later, standing on the pavement, watching the fireworks and the mist of her breath. She'd refused to meet him at the bar he'd been in, because he'd presumably been there with his friends, and she didn't need to run into Malfoy and the rest of them. She wasn't sure what she was doing at all, because she definitely wasn't drunk enough to end up accidentally in bed with him again. But she hadn't seen him since that day Jasper Parker had died, although they'd had a couple of brief conversations by communicator. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe she needed to start giving people chances. Well, some people. Well, one person at least.

"Hey."

Rose turned around. He had appeared beside her, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a dark, wool jacket, and a sort of half smile on his face.

"Hey."

"I didn't think you'd actually come," he said, after a moment's pause.

"Yeah, well. I don't like New Year's either."

"Do we actually have to stand out here in the cold?" he asked, huddling deeper into his jacket.

"I s'pose not. If you don't want to."

She didn't want to go into any of the packed, stuffy bars though, and maybe he didn't either, because neither of them moved.

"Look, Weasley, I'm sorry about the other week," he began. "I shouldn't have just come round like that. I promise you I only wanted to try and help—I didn't mean to, y'know, get into any of that other stuff."

"I know." She hesitated. Rose was very used to saying what she thought, but less experienced with saying what she felt. "You did help."

"Right. Well. Good. I just didn't want you to think…"

"I didn't think any of the things you're worried I was thinking. Okay?"

He didn't reply immediately, and she didn't know whether she'd convinced him.

"Rose is fine, by the way," she added. "Not Weasley."

He let out a small breath of laughter. "Okay. I can manage that. And it's Danny too, then."

It would be difficult to stop thinking of him as Urquhart, but she nodded.

"So why did you…?" she started, at the same moment that he said, "Look, if you want we can…"

They both broke off.

"Go for it," he said.

"Why did you want to meet me?" she asked, bluntly. "Why did you ask me to come out tonight?"

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed.

"You know why. At least I think you do. But I'm not going to say anything if it makes you uncomfortable. We don't have to talk about it. I wanted to see you, that was all there was to it, really. I didn't think you'd come, to be honest. You're a fucking hard person to get anywhere close to, Rose Weasley."

Her lips twisted into something that was part smile and part grimace.

"I know. Sorry."

"Why _did_ you come?" he asked.

Why did she come? It was a good question. Answering it honestly, though, required swallowing a whole lot of pride. Rose steeled herself.

"Because I'm a fucking hard person to get close to," she said. "But you seem to have managed it. Sort of. Somehow." She paused for a moment. "I wanted to come. I wanted to see you too."

He was looking hard at her. Trying to read her, she thought, but she didn't know what he could see in her face, if anything. She wasn't sure what to make of his either, half lit as it was by the street lights. He looked like he was hesitating on the brink of something. She waited, her heart going faster than she was comfortable with. She'd just opened everything to him by admitting that, but maybe he wouldn't see it. Maybe he hadn't understood her at all, and she couldn't bear having to spell it out any further.

"We missed midnight," he said at last. "But if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now…?"

She raised her eyebrows, trying with the utmost effort not to let out the emotions that flooded her. Relief that he didn't need her to explain what she'd meant, and a whole lot of other things she didn't care to identify, but that set her head and heart spinning together. There was no going back from this moment. She couldn't blame it tomorrow on drunkenness or irrational mistakes.

"I'd tell you to stop talking about it and come and do it."

The fireworks were finished. They'd missed midnight by a mile. They were standing in a cold street, the first drops of freezing rain starting to fall. It didn't matter. He kissed her, and for the first time, it didn't taste of alcohol and anger. Her heart hammered with nerves in a way it never had with him before, but as his hand came up to cup her cheek, she pulled him closer, fingers gripping the back of his jacket.

This was new. This was different. This wasn't a furious battle or a race to claw clothes off, it was hands pulling each other in to get lost against each other's lips, until they both had to break away, breathless. This was a slow, irrevocable fall of her heart.

2028 was less than an hour old, and already it had changed everything.


End file.
